


Heretic

by TheSinfulwolf



Series: Succubus Chronicles [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathing, Black Forest, Blood, Cannibalism, Convent, Corruption, Cunnilingus, Dark, Demons, Erotic Horror, F/F, Ghouls, Gore, Guro, Horror, Medieval, Nuns, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rim job, Slime, Spanking, Succubus, Tentacles, Violence, abbey - Freeform, grotesque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSinfulwolf/pseuds/TheSinfulwolf
Summary: An isolated convent is under siege from Demonic forces, and calls for Sister Maelice, a warrior nun from Rome, to save them. Upon her arrival she discovers the convent holds dark secrets, and corruption slithers through its halls. As she fights the forces of Hell outside, can she withstand the darkness within? Will her own secrets emerge to threaten the souls of all she fights to protect?
Series: Succubus Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855345
Kudos: 6





	1. The Convent

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to a larger work I will be bringing here some day. It is an erotic horror piece, and there is lots of violence and horror amid the sexuality, as well as some very grotesque scenes mingled with sex, so do be warned.

Daylight struggled to reach this place, and the shadows all seemed to be crawling with horrors from Pagan superstition. The old Roman road that cut through the Black Forest was far behind, and the dirt path the locals had decided was fit enough to be called a road led a simple cart into the depths of this ancient wood. The occasional beam of sunlight did manage to cut through the canopy, lending light for Maelice and her companion, as they perched on the aging bench of the creaking cart. The two mules that pulled it along seemed nervous, their heads swaying at every creak of branches or snap of twig. The wind itself rustled the leaves above, and animals darted between the shadows.

The driver, a man with deep set wrinkles and a shaggy mane of grey hair, snapped the reins. His milky eyes never strayed far from the road, Maelice doubted he would be able to see much, if anything otherwise.

“I must say, it is nice to have someone else on this journey with me. The sisters are a friendly enough bunch, but it is a lonely road to the abbey,” the man said, and Maelice glanced at him, studying him from beneath the hood of her cloak. He spoke German, though the accent seemed more Swiss.

“You do not seem afraid, despite the rumours,” she said, and the man only laughed. It was a deep sound, and left him smiling when the sound finally faded.

“No. I know the rumours, but I’ve been travelling these roads for near my whole life. Talk of demons and spirits is nothing new, and before Christ died for our sins, it was all the Old Gods and their monsters,” the man said while shaking his head.

“Enough people seem to believe them,” Maelice said turning her gaze out towards the forest again, fingers dancing along the hilt of the sword that rested in her lap.

“Is that why you’re here then? To dispel these rumours?” the man asked, and tugged slightly on the reins to get his mules properly back upon the road.

“Something like that,” Maelice said, and the man let out a low chuckle, before reaching to the wine skin sitting beside him. As he had done every time he went to take a sip, he offered it to his travelling companion first, but she denied it with a simple ‘no thank you.’

“Suit yourself,” the man said, as he had every other time, and pulled the stopper out with his teeth and took a healthy swig. The smell of the wine was strong, and Maelice wrinkled her nose. The smell always reminded her the far distant desert, where all manner of men showed the vileness that lived in their hearts. 

With a contented sigh, the man lowered the wine skin and shoved the stopper back into place. Setting it beside himself he looked over to his companion. She returned the look, wondering exactly how much he could see of her.

“Whatever brings you out here, I would warn you to be careful. Demons or not, there are foul men in this forest, and they don’t much care for the codes of chivalry,” the man said, and Maelice let out a disgusted snort.

“Those men can be found everywhere. Chivalry or not,” she said, and the man shrugged.

“True enough. I just hope you don’t have to use that sword of yours. World has seen enough bloodshed. But I think these days even Christ himself knows to look away, else his kingdom would be rather empty.”

Maelice nodded as the two fell into silence once again. The cart continued to amble on its way through the forest. Beneath her cloak, Maelice felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She turned with a firm grip on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes swept the forest, and found a pair of eyes watching her. Low to the ground they glowed yellow in the shadows. Maelice frowned; the eyes could be a wolf, but they held an intellect not befitting a beast.

The lingering gaze merely watched, and soon faded from view. Maelice stared to where those eyes had been, looking for any sign of movement, but none came. She rose from the seat, twisting to watch behind them. Something shadowy crossed the road, skittering on all fours like a spider. No sound came as it vanished once more amid the ancient trees.

“I would not watch for long,” the man said, and MAelice looked down at him as he continued staring ahead. A fly crawled across the man’s brow and he twitched his head, causing the insect to fly off. When her eyes flicked back, there was nothing.

“I thought you didn’t believe in demons,” Maelice said, and the man chuckled, shaking his head.

“I never said that. You just interpreted that,” he replied, and Maelice grunted as she sat back down.

“Fair point,” she conceded, and laid her blade across her lap once more as she kept her eyes ahead, down the road that would lead them to the abbey.

“Humanity likes to think it’s top of the food chain. But there are places in the world where that simply isn’t true. Talked to a man from Libya once, told me how he lost his brother to lions,” the man said, and Maelice raised an eyebrow. The cart driver seemed very calm.

“Lions are just beasts. That was not a beast behind us,” Maelice said, and the man shrugged.

“Maybe it was. I didn’t see it. There are many animals in this forest, and some do not mind the taste of human flesh,” the man said, and Maelice looked back over her shoulder.

In the trees, something stared at her with yellow eyes. Its shape unknowable in the shadow, though Maelice was not sure the watcher was not shadow itself. Her hand lifted, touching the crucifix that hung from her neck.

“Stop looking,” the man said, his tone without its usual mirth. He was hushed, insistent. “Or you will find your answers before you are ready. The road is for us, unless we invite them in.”

Maelice did as suggested, looking ahead, running her fingers over the plain silver cross on its thin cord. She looked straight ahead, watching the road vanish beneath the hooves of mules and under the cart. She thought she heard whispers coming from the shadows around her, but couldn’t make out the words.

Crucifix clutched tightly in hand, the other firmly on the hilt of her sword, she tried to ignore them. But they were insistent, scratching at her ears. A cold chill running down her spine.

“How do you do this so often?” Maelice asked the man, and he shrugged.

“The sisters of the convent need food. But if I am honest, there is something out there in the forest. Something evil. I don’t know where it came from, but it’s left me alone since it showed up,” he said.

“So far,” Maelice added, and the man nodded gently.

“So far,” he agreed and snapped the reins again.

Once again a silence fell over them. A heavy blanket broken only by the creak of the cart’s wheels and the whispers of the wind. Scratching again, ripping at the veil.

“You fear what the church might do to you should you seek aid,” Maelice said, and the man glanced over at her. He did not respond, and the scratching whispers raked across their minds. There was a twitch in his brow and he looked ahead. So Maelice shrugged. “I don’t suppose I blame you.”

“You’ve been on Crusade,” he said.

“I have,” Maelice said, and the man glanced to her blade.

“And not merely as a healer. You have killed.”

“I have.”

“A nun wielding a blade. Such things do not often occur,” the man said and the woman smiled. It was a humourless curl of the lips while her fingers played along the silver of her crucifix

“It is almost amusing to hear of oddities from you,” Maelice said, and the man laughed. A deep sound that spilled from parted lips, but he did not take his milky eyes from the road.

“You know and yet you just sit there, the blade in its sheath,” the man said, and Maelice looked upwards.

A shadowy shape watched her. At once its form humane and unknowable. Slick blackness swirled like ink into mist as its glowing yellow eyes regarded her with a deep hunger that reached no flesh. Maelice pulled her eyes away.

“The road is ours you said. Faith does not make everyone foolish. Just far too many,” she said and earned another laugh from the man as a fly climbed out from his mouth, moving along his lip.

“It seems you are not here to dispel rumours after all. What is to prevent me from killing you now?” the man said and Maelice merely shrugged, but the whispers had her clenching her jaw, so she quickly spoke to fill the silence that fell.

“Curiosity. You’ve not dealt harm to the convent yet I presume, otherwise your friends would have descended upon us,” she said, and the man chuckled once again. His body did not move with the sounds, nor his lips. They simple fell out from his open mouth.

“You have had dealings with my kind before,” the man said.

“I was at Ma’arra,” Maelice said, and the man simply grinned, another fly climbing out from his lips. He reached down and picked up the wine skin again. As before, he held it out to his companion. As before she waved her hand and offered ‘no thank you’.

“A woman who survived Ma’arra yet won’t imbibe in the drink. I am curious indeed, what will crack you,” the man said, and Maelice just stared at him, eyes narrowed.

The man laughed again, mouth opening wide as the smell of death flowed up from his throat and flies flew out from the nest of squirming maggots behind his tonsils. Scrunching her face, Maelice looked away, clutching tighter to the crucifix in hand. She said nothing as the buzz of flies filled her ears and the whispers scratched at her mind, one string of words clawed inwards, burrowed in her consciousness.

“Did you like the taste?”

The flies vanished, and the man wore his innocent smile once more. His milky eyes staring ahead as the whispers swirled away on the winds. Maelice looked ahead, while the edges of her crucifix dug into her palm. Ahead loomed the stone walls of the convent, nestled in a broad clearing.

Maelice uncurled her hand and looked down. The silver had indented her skin, but the sharp pain dulled to an ache. The crucifix fell from her hand, hanging from the cord around her neck while she watched the convent grow larger as they got closer. The large oaken doors laid into the stone wall were closed, even as the cart came within fifty paces of the protective ring. Maelice looked up over the moss covered walls, seeing the steeple of the convent’s church looming above them.

The man reached down and pulled up a bell upon a short stick and shook it. The high ring of it sounded through the clearing as the cart came to a stop just before the doors. The mules snorted, their hooves clapped at the ground to kick up small clouds from the dirt path.

Within a few moments the doors began to push open. Two nuns in simple gray habits on the inside had their shoulders against the thick doors, reinforced with large bands of steel bolted across. What surprised Maelice the most though, was the nun standing a few paces back with a crossbow in hand. This was not something she ever saw; outside her own order of course.

The man looked at her a moment with a grin, though no flies emerged this time.

“Nuns with crossbows. Seems you have your work cut out for you if this is what greets us,” he said, and Maelice let out a quiet grunt as the man snapped at the reins.

The mules puled ahead, moving into the convent’s grounds. Maelice looked up at the thickness of the walls as they passed through the gates, then let her eyes drop back down to the nun with the crossbow who was slowly backing away from the cart as it moved inwards.

Beyond that armed nun was the yard of St. Juliana’s Abbey, open and broad within the protection of the walls, though dominated by the looming church and the structures attached to it. The grass was carefully tended, though Maelice took note of the barn at one end of the yard away from the abbey proper. The baa of sheep sounding from within told her one way the sisters here kept the yard well maintained.

Once the cart was inside the doors were closed behind it. Maelice frowned, and looked back over her shoulder as she watched the nuns put a thick piece of timber into brackets on the inner side of the door. She could not identify the slender marks that looked freshly carved into the wood.

“You are Sister Maelice? From Rome?” a voice pulled her attention, and she turned her head forward again to see the nun with the crossbow standing before her. The armed nun had spoken in Latin, though a German accent coloured the words.

“I am,” Maelice said as she pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing her wimple and black veil. The armed nun nodded.

“The Mother Superior will wish to see you then. I can have one of the sisters take you to her chambers,” the nun said, and Maelice nodded as she climbed down off the cart. The nun looked at the sheathed sword Maelice held, even as she tied her belt around her waist to leave the blade resting along her leg. It felt good to get off the cart, to stretch her muscles. 

Never mind being out of the forest.

Maelice looked past the nun acting as guard, and saw a small procession of blue garbed lay sisters moving towards the cart. Their heads were bowed to hide their faces, and hands folded over before their bodies. Among them were a few grey garbed choir nuns.

“I have a chest in the back of the cart as well,” Maelice said and the nun lifted an eyebrow for a moment. She glanced towards the cart, before she offered a simple nod.

“It shall be brought to your chambers. Now, Sister Elke will take you to the Mother Superior,” the armed nun said, before she turned to the procession, calling out for the sister she’d just named. A shorter woman stepped out and approached, she lifted her head and Maelice took note of the dark circles beneath her eyes. 

“Please escort Sister Maelice to see the Mother Superior. I am sure they will have much to discuss. When they are done, please show her to her chambers,” the armed nun said in German, and Elke nodded. She put on a smile as she turned her attention to Maelice, though it did not seem a convincing one.

“Lead the way Sister,” Maelice said in German, causing the armed nun’s eyes to widen for just the briefest of moments. Elke’s smile widened just a hint as she turned and began to walk towards the main doors of the church.

Maelice quickly fell into step beside the young nun who threw a few curious glances to the newly arrived woman. Maelice couldn’t entirely blame her, her habit was dyed black and she had a belt around her waist. A belt with a sword no less. Her feet were clad in well worn boots, rather than more traditional shoes, more soldierly than nun like. The weathered riding cloak wasn’t common for those sworn to Christ either.

“You’ll have to excuse Sister Rochelle. She has taken her duties with that crossbow and as the convent’s guardian very seriously,” Elke said, and Maelice nodded as they approached the front doors of the church.

“As she should. The letter summoning me spoke of Luciferians in the woods, along with a possible demonic presence. I can speak to the later now,” Maelice said while Elke opened one door of the church and stepped inside. Maelice paused, kicking the edge of the top step that led to the door to knock some dirt from her soles. 

“Dieter seems to have no issues, but he has spoken of odd things out in the forest,” Elke said, making Maelice pause in the open doorway to look back. The other nuns were unloading the cart while its driver sat upon his bench and watched impassively. Maelice grunted and turned to step into the church’s narthex as Elke closed the door.

“Dieter I think has issues plenty. He just does not share them,” Maelice said stepping through the doors that led from the church’s narthex into the nave. The sounds of Elke’s shoes softly padding across the marbled floors were nearly overpowered by the taps of Maelice’s boots. The sounds bounced through the empty church as the two women walked through the open space between the columns that lined the nave. 

“Perhaps so. But we have had our own encounters here. I am sure the Mother Superior will tell you more,” Elke said as they skirted along the edges of the choir that marked the centre of the church’s cross design, and stepped up to the door nestled just before the southern transepts that were the church’s arms.

“I know she will. But there is much I must know if I am to complete my duty here. Has there been any demonic sighting within the walls of the convent itself?” Maelice asked as Elke opened the door that led out into the cloister.

The young nun said nothing as Maelice walked out into the square walkway that wrapped around the cloister’s central garden. Listening to the door shut behind her before Elke started walking once more, leading them both to the western range of the abbey, the woman was clearly thinking hard about what words to say.

That told Maelice more than the young woman wanted to.

“Nothing significant. Nightmares sometimes, shadows in shadows at night, especially on the grounds. But nothing dangerous. Not like what happened to Sister Hilde in the forest,” Elke eventually said, and Maelice grunted at first. The young sister was hiding something, which did not bode well for the task ahead.

“What happened to Hilde?” Maelice asked, and Elke glanced over at her sharply, before letting out a tired sigh and walking through a small archway that held a set of stairs. Maelice looked back into the cloister with a frown, before stepping up the stairs behind Elke.

“She was torn to pieces, and her torso flayed. It was, a horrible sight. The story is that Luciferians did it, but we know it was something else,” Elke said as the two ascended into a long corridor that stretched the entire length of the western range. On either side were doorways, left open to show the spartan cells within for lay sisters, but no sign of anyone actually living there. 

Maelice glance back as Elke continued towards the doorway at the end, and took note of the stairs that would have led directly down to the church.

“Why not take the night stairs?” Maelice asked, and Elke paused looking back, eyes a little wider now. There was fear in her expression. Whether of her, or something else, Maelice could not tell.

“That is for direct access by the lay sisters to the church for prayer. It would not do, to be slothful,” Elke said, and Maelice grunted. The story seemed reasonable enough. Convents often had strict rules Maelice knew well enough. But there was something off about Elke that Maelice didn’t quite trust.

“Where are the lay sisters? These rooms look abandoned,” Maelice said, before taking note of one of the final rooms, where the door wasn’t open but rather slightly ajar. Inside she saw a pair of shoes sitting just beside the bed. So not all abandoned.

“They have begun sleeping in the eastern range with the choir nuns. It is unconventional, but they feel it safer, considering the times,” Elke said as she neared the door at the end of the hall. She made no mention of whoever still slept here in the lay sister dormitory. 

“Dark days indeed,” Maelice said pausing just outside the door while Elke reached out to knock. Maelice looked at the woman’s veil and wimple. There was something off about its shape that had Maelice raising an eyebrow. Something most wouldn’t notice, but Maelice guessed the woman wasn’t cutting her hair as she was supposed to. 

Elke squirmed beneath the stare as her knuckles wrapped against the Mother Superior’s door. As her hand fell away from the door she folded both just in front of her, trying to keep her eyes off the woman before her, mostly letting them stay locked on the floor. 

“Come in,” an aging voice, muffled by the oak of the door, called from within. Elke almost jumped at the opportunity to push the door open and step inside. Maelice watched her for a heartbeat before following.

Her eyes flicked around the room, taking note of the window that looked over the yard and seeing the nuns outside still unloading the cart. Dieter still sitting up straight on his bench. The rest of the room was rather plain, with only a single oaken desk sitting in front of a simple wooden door being any sign of status, and a very detailed wooden crucifix hanging on the eastern wall.

Behind the desk was an aging woman. Her white habit was spotlessly clean, with her wimple and veil carefully pressed. Maelice smiled when she saw the Mother Superior. Despite the crows feet that had spread from her eyes and the deepened lines by her mouth, Mother Emilie looked almost exactly as Maelice expected.

“Thank you Elke, you may leave us,” Emilie said, and the young nun gave a curtsy before hurrying from the room. Maelice turned to watch her scurry down the hallway.

“Watchful as ever Maelice. I’m glad it was you they sent,” Emilie said, switching from German to French, her Parisian accent far more notable now.

“I volunteered. Rome is as ever, full of politics,” Maelice said as she watched Elke reach the end of the hall. The young nun paused, and glanced back. Seeing Maelice staring, she seemed to startle, before scurrying down the stairs to the cloister. Maelice grunted, finally closing the door.

“Not so different from the days of Imperial ambition,” Emilie said, gesturing to a chair tucked against the wall.

“It’s still an empire. The borders are just drawn differently,” Maelice said as she pulled the chair closer. She unstrapped her sword from her belt and sat, laying the weapon across her lap.

“Careful my friend. That is close to blasphemy,” Emilie said, though there was amusement in her eyes as she spoke.

“I put my faith in God. The men who claim to represent him are children playing at the same games they always have. They’re just rewritten the rules to better suit them. You were at Ma’arra, you know of what I speak,” Maelice said, and the Mother Superior let out a low sigh, her expression softening. As it did, Maelice saw a tired old woman for a brief moment.

“I was. So I know what is happening here is not some matter for a boy priest playing exorcist. I needed a sister of the Magdalena, and now you’re here,” Emilie said leaning back in her seat and tapping her fingers on her desk as she looked out through the window into the yard.

“He’s one of them. Dieter’s been dead for months by my guess. Whatever has taken his corpse though seems more interested in curiosity than anything,” Maelice said, and Emilie nodded.

“I suspected as much. Since his last visit in fact. Some of the other sisters may suspect as well, Rochelle especially. But, for the time we tolerate his presence, until he no longer keeps the roads safe,” Emilie said.

“A very different stance from the one you held before your pilgrimage.”

“Because I see the world more clearly. And the more clearly I see it, the murkier it appears. There are very few absolutes in this world, which is why I needed you,” Emilie said and turned her attention back to her guest.

“What can you tell me?” Maelice asked.

“That there is a cult in the woods, dedicated to whatever demon is lurking out there. This abbey is under siege Sister Maelice, and they intend to claim it. We have had no new patients since they have arrived, no visitors. The isolation that worked so well for the spirits of those we treated has now turned into a weapon against us. One of our sisters has already been slaughtered,” Emilie said, leaning forward with the slightest of winces in her face. The fire that Maelice remembered so well from the deserts of the Holy Land was back though. That gave her small piece of hope.

“Sister Elke mentioned something of that. A Sister Hilde if I’m not mistaken. What can you tell me of the body? Was it ritual or just brutality,” Maelice said.

“You heard correct. Sister Hilde was one of our lay sisters. She had gone out to gather herbs when they got her. We found her later that afternoon. Her limbs hacked apart, and her body cut navel to throat, then peeled open. Beneath her they had drawn a pentagram with her blood, head pointed towards the lower point. Her arms laid at the higher points, her legs at the remaining two. They used her intestines to make the infinity sign over her chest,” Emilie said, before letting out a long breath and crossing herself.

Maelice looked up to the wooden crucifix. She did not expect aid. Not openly. Far as she was concerned Christ had died for their sins, and then humanity had spat on him. They had to prove themselves once again.

“The symbol sounds familiar, I’ll look it up. Then at least I’ll know somewhat, what we’re dealing with,” she said, and Emilie nodded.

“You’ll have full access to the grounds, save one of the patient cells. We still have one, but she is in hysterics. The siege has not been helping her mind much either, so she’s been locked in there and tended to by the sisters throughout the day. No offence Maelice, but you are more trained and suited to destroying, not healing, so I’d ask that you stay away from her,” Emilie said, and Maelice nodded, though something seemed off about the request.

“As you ask. Though, how have you been preventing others from coming? This was supposed to be your big project after all. Healing the spirits and minds of those corrupted by violence,” Maelice said, repeating words she’d heard said to her years before. Shortly after the carnage at Ma’arra.

“Letters, simply proclaiming that we are overlooking texts to ensure the best treatment in line with the values of Christ,” Emilie said, and Maelice shook her head with a short laugh. She rose to her feet, reattaching the sword to her belt.

“I will find your demon, and I will banish it. Any of your... cultists that remain alive I’m sure can be dealt with by whatever knightly order decides to comes through here next. Now, might I ask where my quarters are?” Maelice said, then tilted her head as she heard a woman grunting out in the hallway. As if someone was carrying a large chest. Emilie clearly heard it too as she gestured to the door with a smile.

“As the lay sisters have decided they would be safer all in one room, you can take one of their cells for your use, for so long as you need. I refuse to be scared by a spawn of Hell, so I remain here. One of the lay sisters agrees with me, and has kept her room as well,” the Mother Superior said.

“Then, might I have your leave Mother Superior. There is much to be done and daylight will soon be fading,” Maelice said.

“Go with God Sister Maelice. And bring peace to this abbey,” Emilie responded.

Maelice gave a curtsy, before turning and opening the door. Two sisters she did not know were struggling alone down the hall with her chest. The one with her books, and her armour. It was not an easy lift. They looked up as they say Maelice, pausing in their struggle.

“Closest room to where you are will be fine,” Maelice called to them, before closing Emilie’s door behind her. She walked along the hall, boots tapping on the stone floor, as the two nuns pushed the chest into the small room. They left it at the foot of the bed just as Maelice was entering. She had very little in here. A bed, and her own chest was all there was for furnishings. She may have to borrow the library a few times.

“Thank you sisters. Would you be so kind as to send someone to fetch me for the evening meals? I tend to lose track of such things,” Maelice asked of them.

“Of course sister. Will you require someone to fetch you for breakfast or the mid day meal?” it was the slightly shorter of the two that spoke, the other seemed more nervous. Maelice flicked her eyes between them.

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you,” Maelice said, and received a ‘thank you sister’ in kind as both curtsied to her before turning and leaving the cell.

For a moment, Maelice listened to their footsteps departing down the corridor. When they reached the end, the warrior poked her head out, to find the two sisters taking the stairs to the cloister. Maelice let out a small grunt, and turned back into her cell to open her chest. 

Tucked in beside her carefully laid out mail and hauberk, Maelice had a lantern and candles carefully wrapped in wool to protect it, and a book that she kept most of her notes in. The things she’d seen. With a glance out the singular window in her room, she took note of the sun starting its descent to the horizon; and that Dieter and his cart were gone.

With a few hours still before dinner, Maelice sat on her bed and opened her book. There had to be clues somewhere.

~***~

Entering the refectory, Maelice noted that many of the sisters were seated already and eating. While she still wasn’t sure how many of the convent lived within the abbey’s walls, Maelice could guess a few were outside peering into the forest. While the demonic forces out there might be kept at bay with faith alone, the cultists lurking in the shadows would have to be beaten back with steel.

Which is partially where she came in Maelice supposed.

After she washed and dried her hands, Maelice looked through the refectory for a seat. A few of the nuns glanced to the sword at her hip, but said nothing, or even made disapproving expressions. That in itself gave Maelice concern. Her eyes soon settled on Rochelle, focused on her food with the crossbow strapped across her back. Maelice frowned, and continued her sweep.

Emilie, sitting at the head table, waved the warrior over, gesturing to a seat beside her. Maelice smiled softly and walked along the walls to get to the seat. She was careful not to disturb the rather plump nun reading from scripture near the head table, and soon took her seat after giving the Mother Superior her deserved curtsy.

A lay sister was quick to deliver a mug of beer, a bowl of vegetable stew, and a small loaf of bread. Maelice crossed herself, and pressed her hands together to deliver a quick prayer to God in thanks for the meal. 

“You missed Grace. I was under the impression someone was to fetch you for the meal,” Emilia said as Maelice scooped some of the stew into her mouth.

“One of the lay sisters did. But I was close to something, so I ran behind,” Maelice admitted, only just barely managing to not spill some of the broth from her mouth. It was a bland flavour, but was hearty, and she would savour every bite. Not everyone was so lucky to have this, but still, it could have done with some meat. As she took another bite she glanced up at the nun reading passages. The woman took a pause as she turned the page and continued once more.

“I see your manners still have not caught up to your piety,” Emilia said with a gentle smile to which Maelice merely shrugged, as she ripped off a piece of her bread to dip in the stew.

“Only when truly necessary, which is a rare occasion,” Maelice said, putting the bread into her mouth and chewing before reaching for the beer. A few of the sisters glanced up at her, but none said a word, though at least one was trying to hide a smirk.

“For you perhaps. But, I’m more curious to your studies through the afternoon,” Emilie said, leaning over the armrest of her chair. A quick glance to the side and Maelice could see the Abess was finished her meal.

“The demon that sigil belongs to is Mammon. The current theory is that there are seven princes in Hell, one for each Sin. It is believed that Mammon is one of these princes, so the cultists, and whatever demonic presence is out there, follows Mammon. Worships him,” Maelice said, tucking her spoon back into the stew.

“Not one Devil but seven. That bodes ill. How do you come to such an unholy theory that stands against scripture?” Emilie asked.

“The Order of the Magdalena had been gathering what evidence they can from purged cultists to try and find the truth of this. Someday, we’ll give the information to some man to publish,” Maelice said after chewing on a rather large chunk of carrot that had been missed by the knife.

“Be careful your bitterness does not lead to vanity Maelice. In your work, your soul is in a precarious enough position,” Emilie said, and Maelice paused. Swallowing her mouthful she glanced over at Emilie.

“You are right Revered Mother. But I fear that I will dance with sin before I have saved this convent.”

“You are right. I have no doubt of your faith Maelice, but I fear what the coming days will do to your soul. I have seen you in the shadows before.”

Maelice looked away, a flash of memory fluttered across her mind. A woman’s voice, the touch of her hand. Maelice crossed herself, and pushed the memories down before they descended further.

“I pray you do not have to see that again. Or that I should have to live through it again,” Maelice admitted.

“Then we shall pray together before you settle tonight my old friend,” Emilie said, and Maelice smiled.

“Thank you Emilie.”

~***~

The sun had long since set, and most sisters had gone to the dormitory they shared. Maelice had spent much of the time since dinner in the library, pouring through tomes for any local history that may help her. Of course, despite all the books the nuns here had transcribed there had been little that was any help.

So she found herself in front of the altar to the Virgin Mary in the south transept of the church. Emilie beside her, both women upon their knees as they offered prayers to God, Christ, and the holy mother.

Together they finished, crossing themselves before rising. They moved in silence from the transept to the cloister, deciding to leave the covered walkway and go through the central garden itself.

Quietly they talked, as Maelice shared what little she’d discovered, but also her frustrations at what she hadn’t found. Emilie smiled softly.

“Always the determined one. I know you’ll see your duty done right. I have my faith in you as well Maelice,” the Mother Superior told her.

Maelice was about to speak when she noticed a lay sister moving along the cells of the western range. The small rooms meant for patients of the abbey. She stopped at one door, empty handed, and unlocked it. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

“The one patient you have?” Maelice asked, gesturing towards the cell, and Emilie looked over in time to see the door shutting firmly.

“Yes. That is Sister Runhild. She’s been taking care of our patient’s basic needs. The poor woman, she mostly needs isolation. She’s been through Hell,” Emilie said, drawing Maelice’s eyes back to her.

It was not often that the Mother Superior used such terms. After the Crusade the woman tended to be rather serious on such subjects. What also caught Maelice’s attention though, was that Runhild hadn’t had any food, or drink. She’d gone in empty handed.

“I will pray for her recovery. I’m sure the presence outside has not been helping,” Maelice said and Emilie shook her head.

“No, it has not. But I will admit, she’s been stronger against it over even the sisters within. Perhaps there is something to learn there,” Emilie said.

“There is always something to learn. But I should return to my chambers. See if I can manage some sleep,” Maelice said, and Emilie nodded.

“Let me walk with you. Your room is on the way afterall, and I could use the sleep as well,” the Abess said.

Together, the two left the peaceful garden to climb up from the cloister. In the hallway, Maelice paused by her room. Emilie took another few steps before turning to regard the warrior, her head tilted slightly.

“Tomorrow, I’m going out to the forest. To where Sister Hilde was killed,” Maelice stated, and Emilie’s eyes widened.

“Whatever for?” 

“To purify the ground. To see what I can find. We won’t stop this by staying inside the walls, no matter our faith. I know the prince our enemies follow, now I need to know their strength,” Maelice said, and Emilie let out a deep breath, before she gave a simple nod.

“Then go with God. Come to me tomorrow, and I’ll give you the directions to find the site. Now get some sleep; you’ll need it,” Emilie said before she turned and walked towards her room.

~***~

Olive skin glistening with sweat in the shadows beneath a silk awning. Fingers tracing along a taut stomach and over the soft swell of breasts. Gentle moans filling the air along with the scent of Jasmine. The woman was pristine, beautiful, kind. Her kisses on the shoulder like basking sun. But when gaze swept over her face it was gone.

Torn from her skull in ragged strips of flesh. Blood pouring over the glimmering white of bone as she continued to gently groan. Pleasure in her voice as hands dug into her guts, greasy loops of intestine wrapping around wrist and forearms as they were pulled from the rip in her stomach. Glinting organs burst within her, spilling the maggots that would consume her swarming through the canals they dug in her flesh, until teeth tore into the meat of her throat.

A short scream filled the cell as Maelice sat up in her bed, skin covered in a cold sweat. Her heavy breathing filled the silence as the heavy fog of dreams pulled away, but the images they had shown her were vivid as if she were still within them. She put a hand over her eyes, feeling bile churning at the back of her throat.

She was no stranger to nightmares, but never something so vivid. The images swirling through her brain, until she turned and retched. Strings of bile fell from her mouth, burning in her throat as she clutched the bed. She spat a few times, uncaring of the mess she made. Collapsing back on the bed she tried to process what had just happened, but the images continued to swirl in her mind, and she nearly retched again.

Climbing off the bed, Maelice knelt beside the bed, facing towards the cross. She tried to ignore the foul smell of her bile splashed on the floor and brought her hands together.

“Oh Lord, who art in Heaven. Give me the strength to fulfill your will. Allow my mind and spirit to withstand the wretchedness of your foes, that I might save your flock. May your love be the armour of my faith, as steel is for my flesh. May your wisdom guide me forward unto victory and unto peace. Amen,” Maelice whispered quietly, and lowered her hands to cross herself.

Slowly getting to her feet, the images of the nightmare started to fade. Her stomach was settling, but she did not trust to close her eyes again. As she rubbed at the bridge of her nose, Maelice thought of the dark circles beneath Elke’s eyes. She was not the only one suffering from these nightmares, surely.

The shuffle of shoes on the floor outside caught Maelice’s attention. She turned with a frown, and listented. Whoever was moving was trying to be quiet; they simply were not very good at it. If this were a demon, they were a poor one.

Sword in one hand Maelice moved towards the doorway, and carefully lifted the latch. She held it upwards as she pushed the door open with her shoulder, just enough to peer outwards. In the darkness of the lay sisters’ dormitory, a single figure moved. By the appearance of her habit, Maelice guessed it to be the woman who lived towards the end of the hallway.

What was she doing up so late? And why was her wimple so dishevelled?

Maelice watched the lay sister in silence as she passed by in the darkness. She was close enough that Maelice was able to tell who she was: Sister Runhild. Was she just returning now from the patient downstairs? It must have been a few hours at least since Maelice had watched her slip into the cell. Why was she just returning now?

Runhild seemed not to notice the eyes watching her as she made it to her own room. She fumbled with the latch of her door and slipped in as quietly as she could manage. Maelice frowned, and turned back to her cell. With no desire to go back to sleep she quickly dressed, though ensured they were worn as befit a bride of Christ.

After she lit one of her candles and placed it in the lantern, Maelice belted on her sword and strode out into the dormitory hall. The candlelight pushed back the darkness, but sharp shadows had Maelice swinging her eyes into every nook and cranny as she made her way to the stairs to the cloister. The abbey was quiet as a tomb, and after the dreams and the encounters she’d had in the forest, the warrior was on edge. Her fingers danced along the hilt of her blade as she descended down into the cloister.

Even in the darkness the central garden was peaceful. Beautiful even. The whispering wind descending downwards swirled along the cloister’s covered walkway. It was calming as it caressed Maelice’s sweat slick skin. She moved along the cells of the western range, her lantern light played along the open doors and into the empty rooms.

Finally she came upon the closed door. The patient’s cell. Locked of course, and Maelice had no real intention of going inside; but the woman kept within made her curious. Somehow Maelice had the idea that the woman had answers. 

Lantern light flickered across the door, and cast sharp shadows from the latch and the small grooves along its surface. Maelice frowned, then laid her fingertips against the wood.

“Such darkness in you. You fear it, collar it. Interesting,” a muffled voice, deep and feminine said from the other side. Maelice took a step back, eyes wide. “Of course. The strength you could have if you only embraced it.”

Maelice shook her head, and stepped back until she felt the stone fence separating walkway from garden hit her back. There was soft laughter from beyond that door, and Maelice felt a shiver run up her spine. A far too pleasant shiver. 

“So quiet out there, peering in. I can sense your desire. Oh, what was her name? The one that made you feel... lust,” the patient said, and Maelice turned away, and quickly walked around the cloister. Away from whatever that had just been.

“I shall wait for your return.”

Maelice ignored it, hoped it was just vestiges of the nightmare. Just remnants of whatever unholy fiend had ran its essence through her mind. Memories she wanted to leave behind pushed through the veil the nightmare had settled on her. Olive skin and soft lips. Torn flesh and raw muscle.

“God in heaven. Please give me the strength,” Maelice whispered to herself as she reached the far corner of the cloister. Light caught her eyes then, and the warrior looked up.

It was a soft glow, coming from the church. Straightening herself, hand resting at the hilt of her sword, Maelice moved towards it. A goal, something to focus upon.

She held the lantern high as she passed by the night stairs. Muffled sounds came down them, and Maelice looked upwards for just a moment. There were a few upstairs struggling to sleep it seemed. But who was in the church? She could hear a voice coming within.

Her boots tapped on the marble floors as Maelice entered, and curved around to the southern transept. There, kneelt before the altar of the Virgin Mary, was Elke. Her head bowed as she prayed, her words too quiet to make out, but Maelice could hear the pain in them.

The sound of boots pulled Elke’s eyes up; red and puffy from crying.

“Sister Maelice! I’m sorry, I’ll-” Elke started but was quieted by a raised hand.

“Finish your prayer. We can speak after, in the cloister,” Maelice said, and Elke nodded, seemingly thankful as she turned back to the altar to finish her words.

Maelice made her way back to the cloister and found a bench in the garden. She set the lantern down beside her and simply enjoyed the breeze as she watched that locked door. The one with the patient. A patient she was sure had far more to do with this puzzle than Emilie was letting on. Which only made her grow more concerned.

Soon though the soft shuffle of shoes reached her ears. Maelice looked towards the door to the church to see Elke walking towards her. The girl looked bashful, even as she sat down beside Maelice. She looked exhausted, more so now in the lantern light than earlier today. She glanced up towards the very same door that Maelice had been watching.

“I thought the sisters were all supposed to be sleeping,” Maelice said. Elke blushed, and looked away.

“Sleep has been difficult these past weeks. There have been nightmares. Vile nightmares. And the other sisters well...” Elke trailed off and looked up at Maelice briefly. She sighed. “The other sisters don’t sleep too well either.”

“Nightmares as well?” Maelice asked, and Elke shook her head.

“Once. Some time ago. These days, it is quite some time before they manage to fall asleep while I lay there staring at the ceiling. The nightmares have left them, but still plague me,” Elke said, and Maelice wrapped an arm around her.

Elke tensed, but soon found herself relaxing as she leaned against the warrior. She closed her eyes and breathed in, taking comfort from Maelice’s presence. 

“I’ve suffered the same thing. Foul nightmares, images from the Crusade. Do you know why the others don’t anymore?” Maelice asked, gently rubbing the girl’s shoulder. 

“Because of her. I fear for my soul... and yours... that the dreams might be enough invite temptation,” Elke said as she pointed at the door.

“Why not the others?” Maelice asked, looking once again at the door. She was certainly tempted to find the key and get a look inside at this strange patient.

“Because. They’ve bowed to temptation. They’ve listened to the poison words. All of them,” Elke said softly as she clutched at Maelice. The fear in her voice was clear, and Maelice frowned.

“Why tell me?” Maelice asked.

“Because you’ve not heard her yet. And I am not sure how long before I too bow to her words,” Elke said.

“What of the Mother Superior?” Maelice had a feeling she knew the answer to this question already.

“It was she who brought this upon us. It was she, who did not banish that creature but welcomed her words,” Elke spat.

Footsteps caught Maelice’s attention, and Elke shot up. She looked back, eyes wide, and Maelice saw a light coming from the night stairs. Opening the lantern, Maelice reached in and snuffed the light. Elke could not be caught awake, and Maelice was curious to see who else was breaking curfew. 

“Come with me. We’ll hide in the bushes there,” Maelice whispered and pointed to the corner of the garden. Elke just nodded, before she took Maelice’s hand.

The two of them moved quickly through the garden, and together slipped into the bushes. Crouched down, Maelice pressed a finger to her own lips with a soft ‘shhh’ sound to calm Elke. The young woman nodded, before she looked through the foliage.

The light grew brighter as footsteps carried the source down from the sister’s dormitory. Eventually, Rochelle came into view, the crossbow still on her back. She looked around, a frown creasing her brow as she sniffed at the air. 

The snuffed candle, Maelice thought to herself. Rochelle held one of her own, shielding the flame with one hand.

“Hello?” Rochelle asked into the darkness, but neither Maelice or Elke answered. They watched instead from the bushes. Elke was stiff, nervous. Maelice was tensed like a spring.

When no answer came, Rochelle walked along the walkway to the locked cell. She produced a key tucked into the belt of her habit and opened the door. Maelice shifted, but only saw a flickering shadow inside the cell. A vague feminine shape, but with lumps at the shoulders.

“Mistress. I have come as you requested,” Rochelle said before she stepped inside and closed the door, and all sound from within was snuffed out. Maelice frowned, tempted to go over an investigate. But after the last time she had been near that door, she knew she’d be caught. Instead she turned to Elke.

“Get to bed. Try and get some sleep. I must do the same,” Maelice said before she stepped from the bush. Elke followed, and grasped the warrior’s hand.

“Be careful who you trust Sister Maelice. Even me. Even yourself,” she said, before she let go of Maelice’s hand and crossed herself. 

She scurried quickly, soon vanishing up the night stairs. Maelice watched her go before she collected her lantern. She glanced once more at the closed door and took a few steps towards it before she stopped.

That shiver, the all too pleasant one coursed up her spine again. She had heard Rochelle, the word she chose to address the woman within. The name Safina brushed across her memories, and Maelice turned her eyes from the door. The whispered sensation of soft lips across her shoulder blades reminding her of her own sins. She had no place to judge Rochelle’s lust.

Is that what Elke spoke of? Or was there something more? And what of Emilie?

Maelice did not like the cracks in her trust of the Abbess, but they were there all the same. Maelice made her way to the stairs that would take her to her own cell. She paused on the bottom step, and tilted her head. The distinct sound of a woman’s moan reached her ears. The kind of moan she’d made those years before. The kind that you tried to hide from prying ears, but passion made you sing anyway.

Maelice sighed. Was it Dogma that had Elke afraid, or something worse. Tomorrow, Maelice had questions that hopefully could be answered. She started up the stairs again and went to her cell. And prayed the nightmares stayed away.

She was wrong.


	2. Blasphemy

The site of Hilde’s murder was exactly where Emilie had said it would be. Still, Maelice did not expect what she saw. As she moved across the forest floor, carefully avoiding any twigs, Maelice eyed the circle in front of her.

A clearly marked circle. The blood that was smeared over the cleared ground was still red, even if dried. Chunks of innards and flesh were scattered in the marked sigil, still wet and glistening. Maelice frowned, as she knelt by what she guessed was a chunk of Hilde’s heart. 

She picked up the hunk of flesh, and even through her gloves could feel it was still wet, as if torn out just moments ago. Not over a week. There were no tooth marks from animals, no sign of rot or bugs. Maelice frowned, and dropped the piece back to the ground. She soon found a clean patch and wiped her hand across it.

After she rose to her feet Maelice moved to the infinity symbol, still marked with blood though the intestines and body were gone. Maelice used her toe to break the link, and started to move around the circle. She smudged away the foul sign of Mammon and stopped to stand again in the middle of the clearing. 

A twig cracked somewhere nearby in the forest. Maelice paused and listened and soon heard another crack not far off. Too clumsy for wolves, so there was more than one. With how yesterday’s journey to the abbey went, and those demonic forms in the trees, Maelice guessed she was about to be visited by cultists. 

She opened the satchel she had brought, and reached in to pull out her bible and a flask of holy water. She sprinkled the ground, and held the bible in the other hand. She did not need to open it as the waters soaked into the earth, for the words of the Book of Numbers she’d long since memorized.

“Do not pollute the land where you are. Bloodshed pollutes the land, and atonement cannot be made for the land on which blood has been shed, except by the blood of the one who shed it,” Maelice said aloud in Latin, then closed her flask and slipped both it and the bible back into her satchel.

Another footfall caught her ears, much closer this time. Maelice looked up to see a bare chested and bare foot man approaching her. His trousers were ragged, showing slivers of the skin beneath. Hanging from one hip was a sack, weighed down with whatever it held, and in his hand was a simple wood cutter’s axe. Behind her, Maelice heard another approaching, and a third from her right. They were trying to circle like wolves; they simply weren’t as good at it. 

Maelice slowly dug her foot into the earth as she watched the man approach.

“Pretty words. Not seen a nun dressed as you before. Black habit, and is that mail underneath? Very pretty, goes with those witch eyes of yours,” he said in German, a grin across his face, though his cautious steps belied his confident words. The man was no fool. Maelice kept silent, and listened to the others closing in. “Not interested in conversation then? Perhaps I cut you up to fix the damage you’ve done to my shrine here. Like the last sister who came wandering where she wasn’t welcome.”

When he got close enough Maelice kicked up her foot. Dirt and a few loose stones flew up into his face. The man’s hand shot up too late as he stumbled back flailing his axe. Maelice jumped back and turned her gaze as she pulled her sword free. The man behind her showed a look of shock that she even knew of his presence.

The pommel of her sword smashed into the bottom of his jaw. There was a hard clack as teeth smashed down on his tongue. The cultist stumbled back, blood gushed from his lips as he swayed on his feet. Maelice turned though and caught the swipe from the third attacker. She heard the second man fall to the ground as she drove her knee upwards. With the mail beneath her habit, Maelice drove metal into this third man’s groin. 

He doubled over, before a second knee drove upwards again into his genitals. The first man was rushing at her now, blinking through the dirt in his eyes. His axe lifted high as Maelice slipped around the third of the cultists. Her sword cut across his unprotected middle, slicing deep into flesh and exposing his innards. 

He fell to his knees, and vomited as he grasped at his side. The second man was starting to pick himself up, and the first was nearly upon the nun. She moved again, keeping the third of them between herself at the first. Her foot lashed out hitting the wounded man’s head. He toppled over and crashed into the first man’s legs. 

The two fell to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. Maelice stood over the first man who was trying to get off of his comrade, and plunged her blade down into his back. Through ribs and heart she cleaved, earning a gurgled gasp as she tore the lung as well. 

A quick glance upwards showed the second man on his feet, unsteady but advancing. Maelice stomped her foot down on the dead man beneath her, and earned a grunt of agony from the wounded man beneath him. She walked around the pile of the bloodied two, and faced the second man. 

He came towards her, blood streaming from his mouth. He opened his mouth to shout at her, showing the severed tongue, but not a word made any sense. He rushed her, and she cracked the side of his axe. His arm went out wide and Maelice drove the point of her sword into his guts, and under his ribs. He gasped, fresh blood bubbled up in his mouth as he fell back to the ground, sword stuck inside him.

The third man had managed to get out from under his friend, but had pulled free a greasy loop of his guts at he did. He stared upwards at the nun that slammed her foot down onto his friend’s chest.

“I thought God was merciful,” he said with a piteous whine.

Maelice looked at him briefly, before she grasped the hilt of her sword, and twisted the blade inside the man beneath her.

“God is merciful. I am not,” she said, and pulled.

The steel edge caught against the second cultist’s ribs. He let out a sputtering cough and wheeze before bone began to crack and muscle tear. Slowly one side of the man’s ribs opened like uncurling fingers. He gave one last shudder as he died, the torn ruins of his lung and the now still heart within exposed to God. Maelice felt her mouth watering at the sight of gushing blood and mangled flesh.

The last surviving cultist bowed his head as Maelice walked to him. Fear clutched him as he felt the point of the sword against his back. 

“Mammon forgive my failure,” the man sobbed, and Maelice pushed her sword down to kill him. 

The air had gone still once more, and Maelice looked about her for any other attackers, but found the surrounding forest still as a tomb. She pulled her blade free and knelt by the two corpses at her feet. No tattoos, no scars, no markings at all on their flesh. Just normal men, though with very little in the way of clothing. 

She brought the tip of her sword down and slipped it in the loop that held onto one man’s bag. She cut it free and knelt to pick it up. Maelice had to crinkle her nose as the too familiar stench of voided bowels flooded her awareness. Death was ever so rarely a pleasant thing. 

Sack in hand she stood again, and moved away from the bodies as their blood soaked into the ground. Pulling the bag open, Maelice upended it, spilling the contents to the ground. Coins, jewellery, well made goblets, and other trinkets fell and clattered on the ground. 

Crouching, sword rested across her thighs, Maelice plucked a coin from the ground. A French livre. Maelice turned it over in her fingers a moment before she tossed it aside and picked up a small handful. She recognized stamps on each of the gold and silver coins from England, Aragon, Denmark, and of course German coins of the Empire. 

Maelice tossed them aside, as she inspected a ring. A gold band with a large set ruby. Her hand brushed at a chalice. She was no expert but it did look to be of fine make. Something a noble would have. Something a bandit would want to fence off or melt down. 

“Mammon, prince of Greed,” Maelice muttered to herself as she rose looking about the circle once more. A gust of wind carried through the trees, and a whisper burrowed in Maelice’s mind.

“Did you like the taste?” 

Images from the nightmares seeped through her mind. More whispers followed on the breeze as bare skin and ghosting fingers snapped to torn flesh and glistening bone. 

Gritting her teeth, Maelice reached once more into her pouch as wind swirled around her. Whispers cast at her, and wormed into her ears.

“Sinner, harlot, glutton.”

Pulling the flask of holy water from the pouch, Maelice used her thumb to open the cap. 

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me,” she said as she upended the flash and dribbled the waters along the steel of her blade. It mixed and swirled with the blood smeared along its length.

“The mother knows your Sins, yet she welcomes you anyway. Foul creature she is,” the whispers continued, becoming more focused, a singular voice starting to emerge from them.

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over,” Maelice incanted from Psalm 23 as she tilted her head back and dribbled water upon her forehead. With her thumb she closed the cap once more, and slid the flask back in her satchel.

“She hides secrets from you. Lays them in plain sight in her abbey of lies and corruption,” just a single voice was clearly heard now, thin and whispy, the rest still a buzz at her ears, though they scratched and clawed to get into her mind.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever,” Maelice said, and turned as she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. 

Before her, mists coalesced into a shape that was vaguely human even as the length of its limbs remained inconstant. Yellow eyes burned where its head seemed to be, though something like a mouth moved upon its chest when it began to speeak.

“Your prayers are a comfort alone. They will not banish me as your exorcists seem to believe. Do not fall pray to such petty vanity,” the shape said to her as it floated just above the ground, though a second look showed clawed feet digging into the soil.

Maelice took a step back, and kept her sword between herself and the demon before her. The being laughed, the leaves rustled in the trees with it, even as its feet vanished once more. Maelice stared at this unholy foe, taking note of how far she’d diverted from the path.

“Silence? A shame. Such wicked thoughts in your head. You taste bile from your memories but you could not even bring yourself to deny the question. Or perhaps it was an accusation,” the demon said, the lidless eyes seeming to twist and curve in some kind of amusement. 

“Your words are poisons as are your tricks of the mind. I have no disillusions of what I am, but I will find Christ’s forgiveness,” Maelice said and took another careful step back. Her heel knocked a chalice, but the creature’s eyes did not leave her.

“You are so assured of yourself in that. As if it is fact and not merely belief. Your faith is poison to your own ambitions. To your own happiness,” the demon said, shifting slightly, the shadows following it like fluttering banners.

“You know very little of faith I am sure. What brings you here? To steal souls?” Maelice asked of it, and the creature laughed again.

“I know more of religion than you might think little nun. But you are not wholly wrong. I crave souls,” the demon hissed, a shadowy arm swiping towards the warrior. Maelice stepped back, seeing great claws growing from the fluttering cuff that should have been a hand. 

A swipe of her sword upwards cut into the shadow with a hiss. A thick foul smelling sludge, black as pitch, fell from the wound in lumps and splattered on the ground. The demon recoiled, and the whispers assaulted Maelice’s ears.

But she had seen it bleed. She steeled herself, ready to strike, but the demon just laughed.

“A foolish choice I will admit. One should never underestimate their opponent. But you give me such mundane villainy. No, I do not steal. I crave, I deserve what is rightfully mine, but I will not steal,” the demon said, swirling across the ground, a few more lumps of its ichor falling from the wound. “No it is far more delicious for you to give, of your own free will.”

“Then you are slithering up the wrong tree serpent,” Maelice said, as moved carefully towards the path that led back to the road, felt the ground beneath her boots with each step to ensure she did not trip. 

“Again you display such revolting lack of understanding, for one who claims to know so much. I am not some pawn of Lucifer or Lilith with their snake pets. I deal with truths, for truth is far more destabilizing than falsehoods,” the demon said, and Maelice frowned as the demon spun to face her once more. It realized she had no intention to speak, so simply continued.

“So many faiths, and holy books, and dogmas. They cannot all be true, though each of you claim it is such. However, how will their society crumble, when those who lie find that they were manipulated and coerced into buildings empires for rich men,” the demon said and laughed. “You are a pawn in the games of rich men pretending they are more important than you. To some it is because you were born in a village, to some it is because you simply lack a cock.”

The words stung, and struck a chord that Maelice had been toying with the night before. She remembered Emilie’s words of vanity and bitterness.

“I will not give you my soul,” Maelice said and the demon moved close again, but paused as Maelice steadied the blade, aiming it towards the beast’s chest.

“Not yet you won’t. Not until after you’ve returned back to that abbey and discovered why me and my ilk cannot enter your hallowed grounds. It is not faith that pushes us back, but it waxes and wanes in those halls worse than the moon. Have you wondered what secrets your Mother Superior holds from you? Why do nuns visit the room of a patient without food or water and call her mistress?” the demon said, and Maelice frowned. The demon almost grinned at her, a row of glinting fangs spreading across its stomach before they faded again.

“I know what you seek. To poison my faith in the Mother Superior, in the church. Do not think you will be succesful,” Maelice said, stepping forward.

“Poison your faith in the church? Why I couldn’t succeed there, when it is already little more than dust and cobwebs. No, as I said I deal in truths. The truth is that your Abbess simply takes what she desires. Snatches it for herself,” the demon said, what should have been a foot snatching out, only for the demon to be holding out one of the chalice’s in a clawed hand “You could as well, and still pray to Jehovah. Like so many men of the cloth, or those who wear crowns.”

“Do not utter that name. It is not for you,” Maelice said, and a grin spread across the demon’s shoulder.

“Why ever not? You folk do no use it, in your eternal quest to proclaim there is only a singular God. You have not seen beyond the veil and understand so little, even as you help to fabricate what lays beyond,” the demon said.

“What nonsense do you speak?” Maelice demanded, as she took a step forward. The demon surged upwards, loomed above Maelice at it stared down at her with hungry eyes. It’s lower half little more than wispy trails of mist and ragged threads of inky shadow. 

“Those are not my secrets to give... yet. I would only give those to friends, and you have let me know in no uncertain terms that we are not. But... perhaps my lord would be interested in telling you. All you need to do, is discover the secrets in that Abbey. Your faith will do the rest,” the demon said, and extended an almost human looking hand, like a merchant to shake upon a deal. 

Maelice looked at it. Offered in peace, with answers she sought. She watched mists rising from the hand, fading upwards to be lost among the demon’s bulk. Maelice lowered her sword a moment and looked up. The demon smiled at her still.

The swing cut through the hand, and the demon’s foul blood splashed across Maelice’s habit. She followed through, the tip of her blade cutting where the throat should have been. More of its blood gushed outwards, the stench making Maelice retch as the beast pulled away. It cackled at her, black blood dripping in long strings to the ground. 

“Fire. She has fire. But I am not so easily slain. Flee little nun... should you make it back alive, the offer still stands,” the demon said, and shot away into the forest like a flag tossed in high winds.

The whispers returned, but now Maelice could hear his voice among them. There were three of them, they taunted her, poked at her sins. They grasped and pulled, revealed each one anew to the light. To the eyes of God and reality of her consciousness. Her lust, the killing. Safina with her soft lips, and her final screams.

Maelice stumbled back, before movement caught her eyes. One hand on her sword she looked into the woods, and saw something moving on all fours. Human like, but with wide yellow eyes, and a too large mouth. Hunched and sickly skinned they scuttled through the forest’s undergrowth, watching her all the while from behind greasy strings of hair as long strings of drool fell from their fanged maws. She had seen these monsters before. In the Holy Lands.

Ghouls.

Maelice turned and ran. She cared not for stealth anymore, dirt and fallen leaves kicked up by her boots while sticks snapped in the forest around her as the horde of ghouls stalked her. Shards of bark fell from above as the beasts scrambled through the trees, and leapt branch to branch. 

“No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed,” Maelice started to pray from the Book of Isaiah and ducked beneath a low hanging branch as she continued her flight through the forest. Fear slithered up into her heart while the whispers continued to rake at her brain.

“And you will refu-” Maelice shouted as a body slammed into her side. She held tight to her sword as she hit the ground, and rolled to quickly get back to her feet. 

She rotated her shoulder, and turned to see her attacker recovered from the impact. The ghoul looked up at her, maw wide as long trails of its drool fell to the ground. Crouched low, it scurried forward on all fours, then leapt.

Maelice dodged to the side and brought her sword down. Flesh hissed as foul blood spurted from the wound, the demon’s arm sheared off below the elbow. The creature hit the grass and rolled until it hit a tree and groaned in pain. Maelice did not let herself stop, running to the beast and slashing across its face. She heard the crack of bone as steel split the monsters skull and sprayed blood up the tree. 

A quick glance over her shoulder showed Maelice another of the ghouls picking up the severed hand with triumph, before it shoved the limb in a sack with a stained patch across the bottom.

“You have pretty hands. I will take them for my collection,” the ghoul said with a whispering whine of a voice as it shook its bag and drew a rusted blade from the corded belt around its waist. 

Maelice turned from the monster, her flight started again. A branch scraped across her cheek, tugged at the edge of her wimple, but she kept running. The pursuit did not stop, and Maelice felt a rock hit her shoulder. She stumbled from the impact but kept her footing. More rocks sailed past her, cracking against tress and thumping into the ground.

One struck her head, and Maelice winced despite the mail. Another hit the back of her knee and Maelice stumbled again. Catching herself on one knee, a spear flew overhead. The point jammed into the ground and Maelice surged for it. 

With one hand she pulled the weapon free and turned. With a thrust she slammed the spear into the chest of a ghoul that had leapt for her back. The blade went clean through, bursting out the demon’s back in a spray of blood. The spear’s shaft snapped in shower of splinters as the ghoul’s body crashed into her. 

Borne to the ground, Maelice squirmed an arm free from the beast as it gasped for its last breaths. It bled over her in its final moments, but still she smashed a mailed first into the creature’s face. A fang splintered and a second strike cracked the bone of its cheek. It slumped off the nun, and Maelice quickly rolled to the side. 

A second spear slammed into the earth where her head had been just heartbeats before.

A ghoul landed beside her, spraying its drool across the forest floor. It turned to her, and caught a sword in the thigh. It shrieked in agony as blade bit into bone. Maelice kicked the demon’s head. It stumbled, twisting its leg and flaying muscle from its bone. It collapsed, and whimpered in the dirt. 

Flipping onto her stomach, Maelice forced herself up onto her feet. The others pursuing her did not pause to aid the fallen. Some though descended upon them, to tear at flesh and rip whatever valuables they could from the dead or dying beasts. Maelice did not turn to look, even as the sound of skin tearing and sinew snapping followed her.

On the run once more, Maelice winced. Her lungs were starting to burn, and pain was starting to seep through her muscles. Still she didn’t let herself stop. The ghouls had no concern except to take. She began to duck behind trees, and spears slammed into their trunks. 

Another spear scraped along her shoulder, tearing the habit and sparking against the mail beneath. 

When she finally reached the road, Maelice almost skidded as she turned to run back towards the abbey. She could see its walls through the trees. Even the gloomy overcast sky seemed bright after the depths of the forest. 

A large club swung from the side and struck Maelice in the chest. Air burst from her lungs and she gasped as she was slammed onto the ground. A wheezing cackle sounded above her as the ghoul with the sack of hands stepped over her. Her eyes flicked along the head of the club, she noted the dark stains and clumps of hair stuck in the wooden grain. 

“No, I will take hands, perhaps that blue eye, leave brown one for wolves,” the ghoul said, and lifted up its club. 

Maelice grasped her blade and thrust upwards. The point slammed home under the ghoul’s chin. Crimson smeared steel glimmered from within its maw and the blade punched through the roof of its mouth and scraped the top of its skull. 

The body went limp, and its arms flopped to the sides. The club fell from useless fingers and bounced on the road. Maelice pushed upwards, and slammed her shoulder into the demon’s chest. Clumps of brain fell into its mouth and out onto the ground as they fell from its maw, while the corpse flopped lifeless to the dirt.

Gasping for breath, Maelice glanced back, only to see a forest full of eyes that stared at her. Long strings of drool fell from the trees, glinting in what little light there was. 

Maelice turned away and finished running towards the doors. Doors that thankfully opened as she rushed forward. Two sisters pushed at the great oaken barriers, and Rochelle stood just beyond with crossbow in hand. 

The call for the gate to close came as soon as Maelice had gotten through them. The lay sisters immediately began to pull them shut as Maelice fell to her knees just before Rochelle with heavy breaths.

Rochelle did not even glance to the warrior until the large slab of wood was placed in its bracket. As soon as it slid home, her face turned downwards, and Maelice was surprised to see her expression softening.

“It seems you gave them a blow Sister. But, I can guess our tribulation is not at an end,” Rochelle said, as she slung her crossbow and knelt in front of Maelice.

“No. Not yet,” Maelice admitted, as she watched the woman before her, remembered how she’d entered that cell. The word that had spilled from her lips. Rochelle seemed untroubled though, even as doubt gnawed at Maelice’s mind. 

“Still, you have done more than we have. Come, let us get you cleaned up,” Rochelle said, and offered an arm for Maelice.

With only a few heartbeats of hesitation, Maelice took the help to her feet. 

~***~

Her heart had only just started to calm when Rochelle led her into the lavetorium. Maelice flicked her gaze about the room. Along one side of the room was a stone trough with pipes fixed to the wall above it, on the other were a few wooden tubs sitting empty. There was a grate in the floor as well, directly in the centre of the room, through which Maelice could hear the gurgle of the stream that fed the abbey. 

“Come. Let’s get you out of those clothes,” Rochelle said as she turned on a tap set above the tub. Water groaned through the lead pipes of the abbey, before it began to fall and fill the selected tub. 

Maelice stood, hands at her sides, and stared at the other nun. Rochelle rose, looked back, and sighed before she spoke.

“I know what you saw last night. Which is why I think we should talk,” the woman said, before both she and Maelice turned their heads to the room’s entrance as the slap of shoes caught their attention.

Elke came into view, one hand on her crucifix. When she saw Maelice she gasped, and crossed herself before bowing her head in prayer.

“Sister Elke. Sister Maelice will need her clothes laundered. Would you over look this, and get one of the other sisters to get her fresh garb?” Rochelle said, and Elke’s head shot up, accusation in her eyes. She flicked her gaze to Maelice a moment, who just nodded, even as she noted that the bags under Elke’s eyes were worse today.

“As you wish Sister,” Elke said as she walked to the cupboard on the wall to pull out a towel. Rochelle lifted an eyebrow.

Plain and white, Elke unfolded the towel and held it upwards to hide Maelice’s form. The warrior gave a soft smile of thanks as she began to undress in relative privacy while Elke stared at Rochelle. The room fell into silence and Maelice faced the wall as she pulled off her garments, letting the mail hit the floor with a loud thump that had Elke jump slightly. The sword and her belt though she set carefully next to the trough.

Naked and hidden from sight only by the towel that Elke held, Maelice ran a hand through her hair.

“I will need shears as well,” Maelice said and took the corners of the towel to wrap the linen around herself. Elke nodded, and bent to gather the garb of the warrior as Maelice moved towards the tub. 

“They are kept in the cupboard. I can handle that Sister Elke, now please, go about your chores that Sister Maelice may recuperate,” Rochelle said as she shut off the flow of water. Elke, hands full of Maelice’s filthy garb and armour, glared at her fellow nun. She said nothing though, and soon departed the room with a final look of concern at Maelice.

As the sound of Elke’s footfalls faded into the cloister, Maelice dropped the towel from her form. It would have to be washed now, defiled as it was by the unholy gore it’d pulled from her skin. 

Rochelle stared out at the door, and let out a heavy sigh before she turned. Maelice felt the woman’s eyes upon her back, but she had been under no illusion that the woman ever planned to leave. So instead she waited for the nun to speak.

“The girl fears me. Fears all of her sisters really. Perhaps even hates us,” Rochelle said as Maelice stepped into the tub. The waters were cool, and calming. Already though they were turning grimy as they lapped along Maelice’s bloodied form.

“She saw the same as I did last night. Heard the same words from your lips. I think she’s right to be afraid, for I doubt that whoever is in that cell, is actually a patient,” Maelice said, and turned her head to regard Rochelle who sought out a cloth.

“She was at first. Now, she is a protector. Much like you are,” Rochelle admitted, and Maelice frowned, and faced forward in the tub as Rochelle pulled a cloth and a set of shears from the cupboard.

“What is she? What defilement have you brought to this place?” Maelice demanded, as her eyes slid to the sword across the room. Rochelle noted Maelice’s gaze and looked over her shoulder to the sword briefly.

“Let any one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her, Jesus had said. Your entire life is throwing stones Sister, it is what you were trained to do, but you are not devoid of sin yourself. The Mother Superior has told me of you. Has told me of Safina,” Rochelle said, and Maelice slid to a sit again. 

“How much has she told you of her?” Maelice asked, and was surprised to feel a gentle hand upon her shoulder, followed by a soft squeeze.

“Everything. I am sorry for your loss. Just as I am happy that you got to experience her love,” Rochelle said, and pulled her hand away as Maelice tilted her head. She watched as Rochelle dipped the cloth in a bucket of clean water, scented with soap.

Emilie herself had been far less forgiving when she discovered of the affair. But she had also said she would tell no one. 

“Christ also preached forgiveness. My own sins may be weakness of the flesh, and of the heart, but what happens in this convent... the forces of Hell do not compare to a pretty woman,” Maelice said, but even still let Rochelle’s hands guide that cloth across her neck and shoulders, washing away the filth and uncovering a few darkening bruises.

“Perhaps. But, she wishes to speak with you. Give you answers, and perhaps peace. She has taken the nightmares from us after all,” Rochelle said before she lifted one of Maelice’s arms. Water dripped from along the hard lines of muscle and fingertips, while the nun gently washed away the blood.

Despite herself, Maelice found it relaxing. It brought back one of the happier memories she’d had with Safina, stolen away in a bathhouse after a battle. A long wash, followed by entangled limbs and hungry lips.

Head leaned back, Maelice let out a long breath as she stared at the ceiling. She watched Rochelle from the corner of her eyes.

“I’ll speak to your... mistress then. In the end, I am here to protect you, and what’s in the forest is far worse than a seductress,” Maelice said and turned her head to see Rochelle smile.

“I’ll give you the key then, to her cell. But it is comforting to hear those words from you. Most would claim the seductress far worse than a murderer,” Rochelle said as she set Maelice’s hand on the edge of the tub and stood to move around to start washing the other.

“Perhaps it is just my own weakness,” Maelice said, closing her eyes as Rochelle continued to diligently wash her clean. But each stroke of the cloth was soft, gentle. Brushing along skin as drops broke the water’s surface. It was, calming. 

Heartbeats went uncounted and Maelice found her breaths growing deeper. Sleep swirled at the edges of her mind as her skin tingled from the continued touches of the other nun. When it paused, Maelice didn’t move, enjoying a moment of peace in a world of horrors.

There was a clack behind her, pushing the tendrils of sleep away as Rochelle sat behind Maelice. There was no cloth now as fingers began to rub along the tops of her shoulders. Rochelle dug into muscle, and Maelice felt her shoulders slowly slumping. She worked slowly, without a word, and though Maelice knew what the woman was doing, she could not bring herself to stop it.

The dangers of a seductress. She was certainly thankful Elke was not here to witness this.

Head pushed upwards, Maelice let out a low groan as Rochelle’s thumbs pushed along the back of her neck. Fingers gently pushed into the muscles from the base of her skull and down to the slope of her shoulders. Tension ebbed away as water lapped at Maelice’s chest. Her head leaned forward as Rochelle continued. 

Memories of dark olive skin, the taste of salt upon her tongue, whispered across Maelice’s mind. Memories she had long tried to bury that slithered upwards now, to mask the horror of what was to follow. Safina’s welcoming smile, the press of her lips, even the curves of her breasts beneath Maelice’s tongue. They all came upwards again while Rochelle worked. 

Rochelle’s hands slid downwards, rubbing against Maelice’s chest. Neither woman said a word, and Maelice lingered in the sensations of the present as she remembered the pleasures of the past. She knew it was not Safina’s hands upon her skin now, but could not forget their stolen moments. Fingers thrusting inside each other, tongues pressing deep between each other’s thighs. 

Head leaned back again, Maelice let out another soft moan as Rochelle’s hands slipped beneath the waters. Fingers led, curling over the rise of breasts before palms glided along. She began to rub, a firm pressure that pushed down into the muscle beneath. She did not ignore Maelice’s nipples though. Fingertips rubbed them in tight circles, as they stiffened to the sensation. Maelice moaned again, as she remembered Safina’s tongue at her bosom. That tongue had played much the same as these fingers now.

Breath coming faster now, Maelice’s back arched, water coursing off her chest. Still no words came from the nun above, as she continued to firmly massage at the warrior’s breasts. The heels of Rochelle’s hand dug firmly into the pliant flesh, while fingers teased Maelice’s nipples playfully. 

Slowly, the hands eventually pulled back, and Maelice felt herself relaxing in the tub again, despite the fire in her loins. Her breathing settled, and she was about to open her eyes when she felt lips against hers. 

The memories of Safina fluttered away, for these were certainly not her lips. But Maelice felt herself drawn into the kiss, earning a muffled groan of surprise when she opened her mouth to drag her tongue across Rochelle’s. 

The kiss broke, and Maelice slowly opened her eyes, peering into Rochelle’s. The other nun was flushed, but she did not look away.

“Your hair is not so long. Do you still wish it cut?” Rochelle asked then, and Maelice smirked. She reached up, water running down her arm, dribbling across the surface of the tub, and grasped the back of Rochelle’s head.

Maelice pulled her down, the other woman’s eyes widened in surprise before their lips met once again. But this time tongues pushed forward, hungry for the other. Dancing as Maelice fell into her old sins once again. They felt comfortable, serene. Even still, she was the one to break the lock of lips, and listened to Rochelle’s heavy breaths.

“Yes,” she said simply, with no wish to explain herself. Chewing on her lower lip a moment, Rochelle nodded and sat herself properly again. 

Maelice lifted her head, feeling the tingling remnants of the kiss upon her lips. She had to admit, she had missed the feel. She had ached for the touch of a woman. She had not had a lover since Safina, but right now she desperately wanted to have Rochelle. Despite all the contradictions, all the broken vows, she craved to feel the other woman’s skin against her own.

“I did not think you’d return the kiss,” Rochelle finally said, and Maelice smiled as fingers ran through her already short and choppy hair. Nails ran along her scalp, and Maelice allowed herself to enjoy the sensations. 

“Neither did I,” Maelice admitted, before letting out a soft groan as Rochelle’s fingers pressed in. Slowly she began to rub into the flesh of Maelice’s scalp, and the warrior felt her eyes closing again. There was no surge of memory this time.

“Well I’m glad you did,” Rochelle said as those short locks fell over her fingers, while tingles ran down the back of Maelice’s skull to her neck. 

Maelice could only let out a small groan in reply, her head held upright only by Rochelle’s skilled hands as she worked. Her full body slumped in the tub, the waters nearly up to her neck. Then Rochelle let go, and Maelice immediately craved the return of those hands.

The metallic snip of closing shears caught Maelice’s attention. Her eyes opened and she braced herself for the rough cutting to come. But Rochelle’s slid her hand gently up the nape of Maelice’s neck and into her hair. Carefully she began to cut, and dirty blonde locks fell down the back of the tub.

The warrior felt herself relaxing again while Rochelle continued to cut at her hair. Time slipped into meaninglessness as Rochelle cut away until Maelice’s hair was short once more. Rochelle swiped her fingers through the hair, clearing away the clippings. 

“Come now, lets get you dried off,” Rochelle said, and Maelice slowly nodded, though she was reluctant to stand. 

She opened her eyes and looked down at the brackish water she had been sitting in. That she’d indulged in lust within. Was sloth to be a sin of hers as well? Maelice rose, water ran over her form, dripped from her as she stepped out from the tub. She felt Rochelle’s eyes upon her, watching with hunger and glee, and Maelice could not deny the spark of vanity it swirled in her. 

As water pooled upon the stone beneath her, Maelice stood naked before the other nun, unabashed of her nudity. This woman knew truths of her. In many ways it was a relief. But each moment Maelice accepted it, was another strip taken from the redemption she had striven for since Safina. Though, she began to wonder if she wanted that redemption, and in who’s eyes would it be?

“Towel?” Maelice asked, and felt a forbidden thrill at the coy smile that curled Rochelle’s lips. The woman moved slowly to the cupboard, retrieving a clean towel, and walked back to Maelice. She pressed the towel into Maelice’s hands, then leaned inwards.

Maelice couldn’t bring herself to stop her. She craved it, and opened her mouth just as lips found her own. Her tongue slid along Rochelle’s own, as hands reached down and cupped her rear. Maelice pulled the woman close, and savoured the muffled moan that she swallowed. For her part Rochelle did what she could to dry the woman who claimed her lips, her tongue. She ran the towel over the warrior’s back, as her body was pulled firmly against her. Water soaked into her habit, but she did not relent.

Not until Maelice broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting them a moment. Rochelle stepped back, leaving Maelice to finish drying herself. Then there was a soft knock at the doorway. Maelice’s heart leapt as she covered herself with the towel as she and Rochelle both looked to the open entrance.

There stood lay sister Runhild, a passive expression on her face and one of Maelice’s black habits in her hand. She offered a curtsy, but said nothing of what she must have just witnessed, judging by the flush in her cheeks.

“Sister Elke said Sister Maelice would want clean clothes, while she finishes laundering the other set,” Runhild said as she rose. Maelice narrowed her eyes at the woman and Runhild’s flush deepened even as the rest of her face paled slightly. 

“Thank you Sister Runhild. I suspect you know to keep what you saw to yourself,” Rochelle said as she took the habit. Runhild quickly nodded before she dipped into a curtsy.

“Of course Sister,” she said, and threw one nervous glance at Maelice before she turned and scampered away. Rochelle watched her go before she turned back to Maelice and held out the habit.

“You will find, that what you believe to be corruption, is far deeper than you believe in this abbey. Keep your mind open sister, for there is still salvation to find,” Rochelle said.

While Maelice dressed herself, Rochelle pulled a key from her corded belt. It hung from a small piece of rope that she held out to Maelice. The warrior took it, without needing to ask which door it opened. She examined the plain piece of iron, before Rochelle’s next words had her look up.

“Beware Sister, for while I believe she may be the key to our salvation, she is still dangerous.”

~***~

The evening meal was its usual muted affair, with one sister reading passages as the others listened and ate. Very few talked quietly among one another, though Maelice couldn’t help but notice a few nervous glances thrown her way. She had to wonder if it was what they had seen upon her return to the abbey that morning, or if it was rumours of her and Rochelle.

“You do not eat?” Emilie asked, and Maelice noted she had chosen to speak in French.

“There is much on my mind,” Maelice admitted as she looked down to the broth. Once more she wished the bits of carrot floating within it was chunks of meat. 

“Still, you must eat. The fight ahead will demand all your strength,” Emilie said, and Maelice relented as she tore her loaf of bread in two, and dipped it in the broth before she brought it to her lips. She looked out across the hall, and found Rochelle, who was quietly eating and watching the nun read passages. It was not the same plump one from yesterday, she had sat herself at the far end of the table.

“I have at least confirmed it is servants of Mammon who plague the forest. What’s more concerning is that they have taken physical form; the one I met bled as I cut him,” Maelice said, and finally picked up her spoon. 

“Then you know your path. Slay the beasts to secure the abbey,” Emilie said and Maelice looked to her as she swallowed her mouthful.

“Secure it for whom? There are whispers among the sisters here, and from the demons as well. Something unnatural occurs within these walls, and you know of it,” Maelice said, and Emilie smiled politely.

“Of course I do. You may discover it on your own, or perhaps you will not. Your own sins I know will shield me from your wrath whatever the outcome. My only fear is your own soul in this, for I doubt it will survive the secrets you hint at,” Emilie said, and Maelice looked out again towards Rochelle. She felt the Mother Superior’s eyes upon her.

“Do you think so lowly of me then?” Maelice asked.

“Beware your vanity my friend. It is not that I think lowly of you, it is that I know the truth of you,” Emilie said and Maelice grunted as she reached for the beer.

“What has become of us, to walk so firmly in the dark as we serve God?”

“Crusade, Ma’arra. There was not a soul there that did not emerge with some stain upon whatever purity they may have had. And for what happened there, I cannot believe that there were many pure souls,” Emilie said, turning her head forward as Maelice remembered the crash of blades. The splitting of flesh, the shedding of blood, the hunger that followed. The murder that took her supposedly sinful love, as the feast of flesh descended upon those who marched under God’s banner.

“Perhaps we all should have died there,” Maelice said.

“Perhaps. But we did not. No matter what we think of each other my friend, there are good women within these walls. Good women I would not see be subjugated to the whims of Mammon. It is for them I do what I must, as I know you will,” Emilie said as she rose to her feet, the nuns in the hall immediately putting down their food to rise. Maelice followed suit. 

“Do you fear me, knowing what you know?” Maelice said, and Emilie looked at her.

“I fear what you may become. I would be blind not to,” the Mother Superior said and began the slow walk that age had brought upon her from the room. The nuns all offered her a curtsy, not sitting again until she had left the room.

Maelice sat, and pulled out the key that Rochelle had given her. What was Rochelle’s agenda in all this? What was Emilie’s that she had not even denied a demon’s words against her? Maelice sighed and put the key back upon her belt before she tucked back into her meal. 

~***~

Kneeling beside her bed, Maelice prayed to Lord God above. She prayed for strength, for the protection of the women within this convent, and for forgiveness for her indulgences of the flesh, and her weakness to it. She had a feeling she would be asking for forgiveness for that particular sin again not too long from now. Perhaps the demons in the woods had one thing right. There were many of the cloth who lived against Christ’s teachings. Why could she not?

Fatigue had settled into her mind, slithered through it like a fog, but Maelice dared not sleep. Not with the nightmares that plague this abbey as Mammon’s demons and cultists had it under siege. Nightmares that brought out a most foul hunger.

Maelice paused when she heard the shuffle of shoes upon stone. A lay sister attempting to be silent and failing. Maelice stood, moved towards the door and pressed her ear against the wood. Out in the hall she heard who she assumed to be Runhild on her way back to her room. There was a brief pause before the sound of a latch echoed in the abbey’s stillness, followed by a door’s closing.

Carefully, Maelice opened her door and peered out into the hallway, but was met with only darkness. Hand on her blade, Maelice walked down the hallway and descended the steps to the cloister. She glanced toward’s the entrance to the church and saw the faint glow of candlelight; Elke once again praying by her lonesome while her sisters slept. 

Elke though was not her destination tonight.

As quiet as she could she walked to the locked cell and pulled out the key. She looked at it a moment, before she felt that familiar shiver of pleasure. It almost felt like she was being beckoned.

“You return, with cracks in your collar. You mouth waters and your loins burn. Come in Sister, and let me show you a path,” the feminine voice within whispered through the door.

“A path?” Maelice asked with a frown.

“Of course. One of many. It is choice that truly defines us, not subjugation, not enslavement. That is the way of Jehovah... and of his first daughter. The clay born woman.”

Maelice slid the key into the lock and twisted it. She heard the click of tumblers within and grasped the latch. Once more she paused, a frown on her face. 

“There is no turning back from this, is there?” she asked.

“No. There is not. Just a choice. One of many, but this one will be one of the larger in your existence, not just your life,” the woman within said, though Maelice doubted she was human.

She pulled the door open, and tried to peer into the darkness within as the smell of sex wafted through her senses. She heard movement; like a wolf’s clawed paws tapping on the stone, and something slithering along the wall. A vague shape, a shadow within darkness, shifted. Then violet eyes were peering at her, two glowing embers in the dark, full of desire, of lust, and of life. There were seductive, and pulled Maelice’s attention to them firmly.

She stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her, and heard the latch click shut. As she did, a thick heat enveloped her, and all sound without was snuffed like a candle. 

“Welcome Sister to my prison and my domain,” the stranger said, and Maelice was vaguely aware of her movement. A hint of a curvy silhouette, back-dropped by two large expanses that stretched behind her. 

“What are you?” Maelice asked, and heard a soft laugh that she felt as silken brushes against her mind.

“Better to show, let us not converse in the darkness,” the stranger said and snapped her fingers. Violet sparks popped out from a hint of pale fingers, to briefly show the sharp lines of a gorgeous elfen face.

The sparks landed upon the walls, and Maelice watched veins of glowing violet and crimson spread through the stone bricks. Each vein pulsed, as if the bricks were flesh. The light pushed back the dark in waves, letting it creep back in while the veins continued to course upwards. From the floor the shape of the woman became clear, shadows playing around her form even as Maelice drank her in.

Three dark claws curled from a high arched bestial foot, a clawed heel suspended above the floor. Shadows played across the long toned legs to the woman, violet and crimson gleaming on her olive skin in shaky lines. She took a step, one leg moving in front of the other, partially obscuring the smooth skin of her crotch. Her hip cocked out to one side to draw Maelice’s eyes along its sloping curve into the slender waist. A spade tipped tail flicked behind her, slithering along her leg and tracing the ground, slipping in and out of shadow.

Over the swell of breasts to the soft curve of the woman’s shoulder, Maelice looked beyond to see a pair of large leathery wings. They were folded in tight to the woman’s back and topped with black claws. The creature took another slow hip swaying step, long dark tresses bouncing around the sharp angles of her elfen face, exposing the sharp point of an elongated ear. A pair of black horns curved back from her forehead and along her hair, turning sharply upwards towards the tips.

“What are you?” Maelice repeated, and the woman smiled as she came to a stop just in front of the nun. She grasped Maelice’s hand and held it upon the hilt of her still sheathed sword. Claws dragged along the back of Maelice’s wrist, sending far too pleasant shivers along the warrior’s forearm.

“A daughter of the clay born Goddess. Defiler of the lust bound damned, and nightmarish excuse to adulterers and fornicators. I, am a succubus. You may call me Ankhta though,” the succubus said, her breath washed across Maelice’s features. Warm and scented of jasmine. Maelice felt her breath catch a moment as she watched the naked demon step within inches of her.

“So you’re the one who’s stopped the dreams. Penned in by the Mother Superior for your power I presume,” Maelice asked, before Ankhta ran her fingers along the nun’s lips, parted them slightly. She leaned in, getting ever so close, and Maelice’s heart pounded within her chest. She felt herself melting with barely a touch and the succubus smiled as she came ever closer. Her head turned at the last moment, her breasts pressing to Maelice’s chest, her lips at the nun’s ear.

“Correct. I was wounded by the abominations of Mammon, and Mother Emilie could not bring herself to let even a demon die under her care. So she took me here, and she offered a lay sister for my nourishment. We began to talk, and oh the depths of her desires that I could see in her shadow,” Ankhta purred, her words silken, her lips grazing Maelice’s ear through her wimple, before teeth clamped down. Maelice nearly whimpered.

“So then you began to corrupt the abbey,” Maelice accused, trying to get her mental footing again, curling her fingers around the hilt of her sword to focus herself. She looked beyond the succubus’s wing to the veined wall beyond, seeing the bricks waver. Swelling and ebbing as if with hidden lungs. As if alive.

“What you would call corruption, yes. But all I offered were paths. Choices. I offered tales of how things could have been, and what things are like beyond the veil of death. In the pits of Hell, which you must know you are destined for. I forced nothing, though I am kept behind a locked door,” Ankhta said, as her claws played along Maelice’s fingers, traced across her knuckles, without any motion to pry them from her sword.

“What’s in it for you? Who is the clay born Goddess?” Maelice asked as she watched the wall shifting, a black mass spreading from the cracks. It spread like oil slick ivy, its fingers spider webbing across the bricks it touched.

“I rather savour that of you. You fight and meddle in affairs you do not understand, yet you do not slap it with some tome but try to understand. You seek what others would deny, that you may understand. That you may fight,” Ankhta said, taking in a deep breath, one hand gently laying on Maelice’s chest.

“Then help me understand, answer my questions,” Maelice said as she found herself staring into those violet eyes once more.

“If you answer just one of mine, I will help you understand what you wish,” Ankhta said and held up a single clawed finger that she then tapped against Maelice’s lips. 

The nun frowned; surely this was how Emilia had ended up skirting through the morass of the dark, how Rochelle came to call this demon ‘mistress’. They conversed when they should have banished. They struck deals when they should have trusted in God.

But, Maelice did not believe she was truly in God’s good graces, and to make his will known, she had to bend some rules. She bit her lower lip, and pondered the deal, while Ankhta just watched with a soul melting smile.

“What’s your question?” Maelice said finally as she released her lip.

“Why do you collar your darkness and deny yourself what you desire?” Ankhta said, her fingertip slid down along Maelice’s neck. As much as the nun tried to keep a stoic stance, she tilted her head back, exposing her throat. Her gaze found the inky vines that were creeping across the ceiling, curving downwards to spread across the wall behind her. 

The question pricked at her. This went far deeper than temptations. It felt like a done deal that she was dancing around. 

“What do you know of my desires?” Maelice tried, feeling the emptiness of the words even as she uttered them into a room that did not belong on this Earth.

“Questions with questions. We could go about this for eternity, so let me start the string of answers. I can see them my sweet warrior. Like words written in a tome I see them in your shadow; your lusts, your craving for the touch of a woman. Your passion for Safina, the growing desire for Rochelle, and now, for me. I see it all,” Ankhta said as her fingertip slipped off Maelice’s neck and trailed along the nun’s concealed chest, down to the hidden swell of her breast. The succubus paused, her claw poking through the habit and against Maelice’s nipple.

Somehow the words made the nun feel at ease. Pretense stripped away, no hiding herself from the eyes before her. There was no judgment, no accusation, just fact. It felt comforting, and the sensation wrapped itself around Maelice’s mind like a warm blanket. She blinked, and let herself be honest.

“Because I fear Hell. I fear damnation,” Maelice said, and turned her head away a moment. She battled with the shame she’d been told she was supposed to have, and was surprised when the claws left her hand, left her sword free. The sharp points gently pressed along Maelice’s cheek and jaw. Slowly her head was pulled back, and the succubus leaned in until their lips pressed together.

The demon tasted of honey, her lips soft and pleasant. Maelice’s eyes fluttered a moment, before the kiss between them broke. 

“Do not fear Hell, or damnation. I will not lie, you are bound for the inferno, but what happens there will be up to you. Will you embrace yourself?,” Ankhta said, and Maelice let her fingers slip off the hilt of her blade. She grasped the succubus’s hips, and let her hands slide upwards to feel the smoothness of flesh beneath her palms.

“How easy mortal souls fall,” Maelice muttered to herself as her hands slid back downwards. Grasping Ankhta’s hips she pulled the succubus closer, the demon grinning. 

“You’ve not truly fallen... not yet. Is that the path you’d like to tread?” Ankhta asked, and Maelice closed her eyes. She pictured Safina, the smile on her face that turned to hungry moans with the right press of the tongue. Then she remembered the crusaders who butchered her, their blades sinking into her back as she had tried to run. The chunks they had cut from her to quell their maddening hunger. The smell of Safina cooking upon spear tips hanging over fires had driven Maelice to fury then, and still haunted her.

The pope, the bishops, the priests, had promised those men salvation. Forgiveness of their sins for their march. Maelice had ensured their lips had not tasted her lover in a display of carnage that mirrored the brutality the crusaders had shown the city of Ma’arra. 

The nun opened her eyes. Violet eyes stared at her, the room had grown over with the black weed flesh that rippled with a strange life of its own, lit by the pulse of the veins within.

“Yes. I joined the church to serve God, not men,” she said.

“There is another you might serve alongside Jehovah. You wanted to know what I got out of this Sister Maelice? I got followers for my Goddess; the clay born Goddess, Lilith. Made of divine flesh, and banished for daring to speak against Adam. She who offers choice, and embraces desire. The cosmos is not as black and white as some would have you believe, and neither is Hell,” Ankhta said as she pushed back Maelice’s veil. The nun let her.

“I have heard of the seven princes of Hell, but Lilith only in stories,” Maelice said, and Ankhta raised an eyebrow.

“Impressive, you know more than your preachers would have others believe. But it is but part of the tale. A Devil for each sin, dictated by the masses upon Earth. Lilith is an eighth, who seeks to control lust. Her war with Asmodeus has raged for millennia,” Ankhta said, and Maelice watched those seductive eyes. 

“Will she take me, as I continue to serve God’s will on Earth?” Maelice asked as the succubus pulled off her wimple. The demon smiled, and dropped the pristine white cloth to the floor before she leaned in. Lips found Maelice’s exposed ear, and teeth nipped at the shell.

“Why not serve both? Give your heart to both, there is room for more than one in your soul,” Ankhta said and bit again to earn a gasp from Maelice’s lips. The nun’s hands slid back from the demon’s hips to the firm swell of her ass, and dug her fingers in.

“If she aids me, she will have my blade. In this life, and beyond,” Maelice swore, and felt something twist deep inside herself. A sensation of freedom, of belonging. 

“And there’s the collar shattering. Welcome Sister Maelice, it is good to meet you,” the succubus purred, before Maelice lunged forward to press her lips against the demon’s own. Her tongue thrust forwards, forced Ankhta’s apart to feel the slickness of saliva. 

The succubus let out a hungry groan as her tail flicked forward. Slowly it began to lift at the hem of the nun’s habit, drawing it upwards until the boots were fully revealed and skin showed. For the second time that day Maelice was about to be exposed, but this time she craved it. She embraced it. For the pure lust of it.

She released her grip on the succubus’s rump, and helped the tail lift her habit. Up it climbed, past thighs and rippling stomach. The cloth bunched up at her bust and the two broke their kiss. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before the habit was drawn upwards and discarded. Naked save her boots, and crucifix, Maelice stood proud before the succubus.

“You are a creature of beauty Sister Maelice,” the succubus said as her claws ran along the ridges of hard ab muscles and upwards to cup the nun’s breasts. The demon squeezed gently, claws pressed into the soft flesh, stiff nipples dug into Ankhta’s palms.

“Then take me, make me yours tonight, as I make you mine,” Maelice said and was surprised when she felt something slick coiling around her arms. She glanced down, and saw inky black tentacles emerging from the weed flesh on the walls. Black slime smeared along her biceps, and ran in dribbles along the grooves of her muscles. There was a surprising strength in them as they pulled back on Maelice’s arms until her shoulder blades pressed against the wall.

“It would be my delight. I’ve fed already, this will just be for pleasure,” the succubus purred before she ran a tongue along a claw.

More tentacles slithered out from the wall to wrap around Maelice’s midsection, coiled around her body and slithered up between her breasts, as others pushed them together. Maelice could only moan, feeling that darkness inside herself throb with eagerness as she finally fed it. 

Slime dripped from above, dropping in Maelice’s hair and rolled down over her forehead and along her nose. She glanced up, seeing more tendrils as they descended towards her. A few more drops pattered across her breasts and cheek as the tentacles soon wrapped around her thighs, and downwards to wrap around knees and calves. Slime coursed along the curves of her legs, and seeped into her boots.

With slow power they pulled upwards. The soles of Maelice’s boots left the floor, her legs opened as her back slid up the wall. Her arms were pulled upwards and the demonic limbs lashed around her wrists as slime coursed along her limbs, and dribbled over her laces.

“This is blasphemy you know,” Ankhta purred, her tail flicked back and forth as she savoured the sight before her. 

“Then mark me a sinner. No man shall hear my confession again. I will be judged by God and Lilith when they deem it so,” Maelice said, surprised how easy the words came to her lips, how good it felt to utter what she had wanted to for so long.

“So rises the harlot warrior, in the image of her new mother,” Ankhta said, hands pressed together as she stepped between Maelice’s legs. She reached forward and traced a claw along Maelice’s breast to draw a moan, then grasped the crucifix. The demon glanced down at the piece of silver, and ran a thumb along its simple design before she freed it with a single tug that snapped the cord. Slowly she sank to her knees. “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God and Goddess in your body. Yours in a temple meant to be prayed at Sister Maelice.”

Surprised to hear Corinthians quoted and twisted to perversion by a demon, Maelice bit her lower lip, and watched the succubus come forth upon her knees. Gently she kissed along slime slick thighs as two new tentacles slithered down along the nun’s spine, following the very trail of slickness that dribbled from their phallic tips. One atop the other they ran down the cleft of Maelice’s ass, making a smeared mess along her cheeks.

“Come and pray then sister,” Maelice found herself saying as she looked down upon the succubus knelt between her thighs, crucifix in hand. Ankhta flicked her gaze up with a wicked smile, as the tip of one tentacle teased at the entrance of Maelice’s ass. Her breath came in fast and heavy huffs, as she felt the demonic phallus push against her. The other continued it’s journey forth until it pressed against Maelice’s slick cunt.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well,” Ankhta perverted the passage from Psalms and leaned inwards as she dropped the crucifix. She dragged her tongue along the slimy tentacle poised at Maelice’s sex and up to the eager jewel of her clit. A deep hungry moan spilled free into the room, and Maelice leaned her head back.

The tentacles eased their way inside, her ass and cunt stretching open for them. Slick slime smeared along her inner walls, and the succubus’s claws danced along her thighs. Ankhta’s tongue flicked over Maelice’s clit, forcing a moan each time as the tentacles pushed ever deeper. Deeper than tongue or fingers could reach alone. Bound, Maelice was made an altar of her own lust, and she welcomed the prayers between her thighs while more tentacles slid along her body and massaged her flesh. 

Pleasure coursed from her loins from the sinking limb and the dancing tongue, and surprisingly from her rear as well as that tendril pushed ever deeper. She was opened to it, a wince of pain from stretching muscles that gave way to perverted delights. Her hips bucked against both penetrations, as she moaned to the ceiling. Both tentacles began to thrust harder, their phallic heads slammed up inside the lustful nun.

Ankhta stared up over the nun’s slick form as she watched more serpentine flesh slither across Maelice’s chest and wrap around her neck. The succubus’s tongue continued to grind against the nun’s clitoris, as the tentacles slid under the edges of her jaw. Fingers curled into fists, Maelice pulled on her restraints, but despite the slippery flesh she could not budge.

In pleasure Maelice screamed out, and her toes curled as an orgasm burst out through her. Her juices gushed along the tentacle that plunged into her and over Ankhta’s chin and lips. The succubus did not relent, and in the midst of her orgasm Maelice felt the demon within her. Deeper than flesh, Ankhta’s presence coiled along her soul. But there was no fear, only an intimacy she could only dream of before.

“Oh fuck,” Maelice screamed, her thighs straining against the fleshy bonds while slime dripped from her toes. As climax subsided, pleasure began to mount once again, while the succubus rose before her. 

The demon’s face was a glistening mess of Maelice’s pleasure, her chest smeared with black slime. Ankhta stepped around the trapped nun, though Maelice did not seek release as she descended once more into her lust. The succubus’s tail traced along the nun’s legs, drew lines in the slathered black.

“There is a reason that faith alone could not banish me, and my own magic and sigils held back Mammon’s fiends,” Ankhta said with a wicked gin and flick of her wrist. Before Maelice could even ponder a response, a tentacle surged upwards, curled, and pushed between her open lips.

The phallic limb pushed inwards along her tongue towards the entrance to her throat. Slime collected at Maelice’s lips, and ran down her chin and neck in long rivulets. The slickness tasted sweet like almonds, punctuated by a saltiness that lingered on the tongue. Ankhta stood beside the fallen nun to savour the sight, claws running along the nun’s slathered abs and the tentacles crisscrossing them. 

“Because Lilith was sculpted of the same divine clay that birthed life. She was never celestial like the fallen ones, or the infernal born,” Ankhta said as she slid her palm over Maelice’s breast. The nun groaned while she bucked her hips hard against the ravaging thrusts of the tentacles. The succubus smiled, and squeezed firmly before she stepped away. She paused, and picked up Maelice’s blade from the ground. 

Maelice squirmed, groaning as she did. Ankhta looked back, sheathed sword resting across her palms. She lifted her chin ever so slightly, and the tentacle in Maelice’s mouth plunged forward. 

A choked gag sounded from the nun as her throat was forced open and made to relax in the deviant heat of this unholy room. Ankhta watched the bulge in Maelice’s flesh with perverse delight while the nun’s eyes rolled backwards. Her nostrils flared as her instincts drove her to breathe while her mind bathed in the pleasures the flesh brought her.

The whisper of steel against the wood lining of the scabbard went unheard in the room as muffled moans and chokes swirled together with the slick thrusts of those demonic limbs into their eager lustful altar. 

Sword held in front of her, Ankhta examined the plain looking blade. As Maelice embraced her lusts and savoured the pleasures given her, the succubus pressed her claw to the blade beside the fuller. The scrape of bone against steel sounded amid the choked moans, and steel filings drifted to the floor as Ankhta drew a series of sigils lining the fuller on both sides.

When she was finished she blew out filings from the engravings and slid the sword home. She set it down and walked with swaying hips to the display Maelice had been made. 

The tentacle thrusting down into her throat pulled out then. Thick slime and saliva bubbled out from Maelice’s mouth as she gasped for breath, only to find lips clamping against her own. She mewled into the kiss, even as a tongue thrust into her mouth. Ankhta pushed her hand down Maelice’s body, claws shrinking down before fingertips found the nun’s clit once more. 

Pinching the jewel between her digits, Ankhta matched Maelice’s moans of pleasure. With expert skill, Maelice found her mind swirling with pleasure as she was sent cascading into orgasm once again. Her hips stilled, her body near rigid as she moaned into their messy kiss. The spirit deep sensation of the succubus reaching in to caress her soul drawing a deep moan muffled by pressed lips.

Slowly, the tentacles began to withdraw. Ankhta slid a wing beneath Maelice to help her down as those demonic tendrils slid along her flesh, until the two were upon their knees.

Limbs weak, and mind swirling as the kiss broke, Maelice breathed deep of the thick sex filled air. Slime ran over her skin as she tried to collect herself, to recover. Leaning forward, the thick black dripped from chin and lips, fell from her breasts and rolled along her limbs and stomach. Her chest rose and fell heavily as Ankhta’s claws gently played along the warrior’s back.

“Rise Sister. The dawn brings yet more strife and you will need your strength,” Ankhta whispered, and Maelice looked up at her, and the succubus grinned.

“And the dreams?” Maelice asked.

“You have been touched by Lilith now. They will not pester you,” Ankhta purred as she leaned forward to drag her tongue along the back of Maelice’s shoulders and earned a fresh groan of pleasure from the nun.

~***~

Standing outside the cell as the latch closed and locked, Maelice realized she was still naked. Her mind still swirled from the succubus’s touch, and she held her filthy garments in her hands. Slime dribbled along her bared skin, the wind cool in its touch. She hoped she was alone at this hour.

She thought of heading to the lavetorium, but instead decided on the stream outside that fed the abbey its water. She moved quietly through the cloister and into the church as rivulets from her blasphemy ran along her slime smeared skin. Her boots soon tapped upon the marble floors of the church, even as they squelched. Maelice dared not look back to the great crucifix that bore Christ in the high altar.

Clothes clutched to her bosom, she moved through the church and quietly slipped out the front doors. She made little sound as she stepped outside onto the abbey’s grounds, and relaxed when she looked up at the moon. 

Its light glinted upon her messy body, and Maelice found a smile curling her lips. She took a deep breath of the clean air and turned to walk along the wall of the western range. It did not take long to reach the southern corner of the abbey, where the gurgle of running water reached her ears.

She came around and glanced about, but there was no one in sight, so she sat to pull off her boots and tossed them one at a time into the water, before she set her sword and belt aside. The stream itself was not very wide, though it seemed deep enough for her purposes. She could not see its source, though it ran through the foundations of the abbey to feed its pipes, and continued on to a small grate in the abbey’s wall. Maelice stepped up to the edge of the stream and took a breath, then walked out into the water, and gasped at the chill.

Maelice walked until she was in up to her waist. She plunged her clothes beneath the surface and began to scrub them clean, and felt reluctant to wash her body. The slime drifted off her legs and from her habit, and swirled with the current. In the moonlight it was black as an abyss, and Maelice could not help but feel she was spreading her new Goddess’s corruption out to the forest.

The sensation of being watched settled over her, and Maelice stood, upper half still smeared from her most recent sins. She looked about, but saw no one. Perhaps the eyes upon her were not even mortal. As water coursed over her hips and dragged her garments away, Maelice stood and continued to search. She felt a drop of Ankhta’s slime fall from the tip of her breast.

With a hand she cupped herself, and squeezed gently. She let out a small groan at the pleasant sensation, while fresh water ran off her hand and swirled with the slime upon her. She had given herself already to Lilith. Why couldn’t she just savour a small moment? What were her excuses for herself now?

If someone was indeed out there, let them enjoy the sight. Maelice smiled, and squeezed harder. Slime spilled through her fingers before she pinched her own nipple to draw forth a hungry moan. She let the sound carry across the grounds, then lifted her hand to her lips. Slowly, she sucked each finger clean, and savoured the sweet flavour that flowed over her tongue and down her throat. The essence of Hell, of Lilith. 

When she pulled the last finger from between her pressed lips, Maelice smirked. She was clearly not the first among this convent to fall for the temptations of the succubus. Why should she be ashamed? She stretched her arms above her head, and displayed her body for any that had eyes upon her; mortal or otherwise.

But, the hour was late. She was sure Lilith would not be pleased with one who was a slave to lust and temptation. For how would that make her any different from the church?

So Maelice sank downwards, sunk herself into the water, and scrubbed herself clean. The remnants of her beautiful sin flowed out from the abbey, but Maelice felt no guilt. It was only fluid. 

She rose with sodden boots in hand, and walked towards the grate to collect her clothes. They had caught against the metal bars, and were easy to grasp, but Maelice paused as she noted something that glinted in the moonlight.

She leaned down and peered at the grate. Someone had carved sigils into the metal, fairly recently, the same that had been carved into the gates. More gifts from Ankhta. She would need to copy these, and bring them to Rome. 

Grasping her clothes, Maelice emerged from the water. The wind chill against her wet but clean skin as she wandered along the stream’s edge to grab her sword. As she started to make her way back to the church’s entrance, Maelice thought of the gate. If the sigils carved there were a protection against the fiends without, they should be checked. 

With her clothes left stretched out upon the grass to start to dry, Maelice walked naked with sheathed sword in hand across the grounds. The wind brushed her, slowly dried her, before she soon stood before the gates. Her eyes ran along the carved symbols, took them into her memory. Nothing seemed amiss, no fresh alterations that would break the protection on this place. Or so Maelice had to assume.

Maelice made her way back to the abbey, even put a little sway in her hips like she’d seen the prostitutes in Rome do. She felt free, for the first time in years. She felt validated, and all it took was to swear herself to something she’d been told for her entire life was evil. With a smile upon her face, she found her still wet clothes and picked them up before she headed inside. 

She closed the door quietly behind her, and started to walk through the church, bare wet feet upon the marble. 

The low sound of a moan caught her attention. Maelice paused, brows furrowed as she peered into the darkness while her eyes slowly adjusted. Shapes began to form in grey, and soon Maelice spotted a figure on all fours in the middle of the church. Knelt over footprints of the succubus’s slime that Maelice had left in her wake.

The nun looked up, and Maelice recognized her from the evening meals, but did not know her name. It was difficult to see, but there was the glimmer of slime upon her lips and chin. She grinned wickedly as she stared upon Maelice’s naked form, and the warrior found herself lowering the handful of garments just enough to expose her breasts to the hungry gaze.

“Welcome to our sisterhood. Do not fear, I shall clean your mess,” the nun purred, and Maelice bit her lip. The words solidified all the thoughts that had swirled through her mind outside. 

“Thank you sister,” Maelice said, and the nun lowered her lips again to the footprint upon the floor. Slowly she dragged her tongue through the smear with a soft groan. Maelice watched for a few moments before she turned to the nightstairs.

Slowly she climbed the stairwell that led to the dormitory she been given, while the sounds of pleasure followed her upwards. Her bare feet patted gently against the stone as she reached the hallway and eventually her door. She made some noise as she opened the door, and almost laughed as she thought of Sister Runhild, who still managed to get dressed at least.

As the door swung open, she saw a figure staring out the single window her room had. Moonlight silhouetted them, but Maelice recognized Rochelle as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. Rochelle turned, an eyebrow razed as she looked at Maelice’s state.

The warrior walked forward and laid her clothes and sword beside her chest. They could all be dried properly tomorrow. 

“It seems your meeting went well,” Rochelle said, and Maelice let out a short single note laugh. She walked up and pushed Rochelle against the wall, making the other nun gasp in surprise. Any further words though were swallowed by Maelice’s hungry kiss that tasted of almonds and honey.

She pulled away, and grinned.

“Take off your clothes.”


	3. The Harlot

Sunlight streamed in through the glass and warmed against Maelice’s naked back. She stirred softly, sheets entangling further around her legs while her body brushed against the skin of another. With a soft groan she opened her eyes as the fog of sleep parted. Before her she saw the bared flesh of Rochelle’s shoulder.   
  
Maelice waited for the guilt to come climbing into her brain, and she smiled when it never did. She watched the slight rise and fall of that shoulder with Rochelle’s even breaths. Maelice reached out, and traced the tips of her fingers along the slope from neck to arm, earning a sleepy groan.  
  
Slowly Rochelle stirred, and turned over in the small bed that had the two lovers pressed together. Their legs rubbed together as they entangled once more while their lips sought out the other’s. Breasts pressed tightly against one another, their tongues danced as lips caressed. They needed no words, as Rochelle dragged her hand in between Maelice’s thighs, and pushed her fingers inside the warrior, earning a moan muffled by their hungry kiss.   
  
Firmly, Rochelle began to thrust and felt slick arousal slather her digits. Maelice ground her hips forward, the sheets almost rough against one hip. She felt the heel of Rochelle’s hand as it was pressed tightly against her crotch, roughly grazing her clit.   
  
Maelice broke the kiss and licked her lips as she stared into Rochelle’s soft brown eyes. The fingers below didn’t stop as the two smiled at each other, though Maelice’s was broken by soft moans.  
  
“Good morning lover,” Rochelle said softly, and Maelice leaned against that word. She embraced it and held it tight in her mind for the solace it brought her.   
  
“Morning,” she managed in return, the word breathy and laced with the lust that swirled through them both.  
  
“You have such pretty eyes. Brown for God, blue for Lilith,” Rochelle said before she leaned in for another quick kiss. Another quick flick of tongue.  
  
But Maelice wanted more.  
  
She slithered down and planted kisses along Rochelle’s skin. Her lover groaned, but did not stay still as their legs came apart. They shifted and moved along one another, their hands and tongues guiding the other until both were planting kisses upon the other’s thighs and Maelice felt the mattress against her back.  
  
Their legs opened exposing themselves to the other. A drop of arousal fell upon Maelice’s lips, as she pushed her face upwards. Her tongue flicked over Rochelle’s clit before she dragged the slick muscle over her lover’s lower lips. She savoured the now familiar flavour as it bathed her tongue and continued to tease along the petals now pressed against her mouth.   
  
The moans from Rochelle cast hot breath along Maelice’s thighs and her own wet womanhood. Rochelle gripped her lover’s hips firmly before she delved her tongue inside Maelice. A muffled moan sounded from the warrior as both women ground their hips against the eager tongue that pushed into them.  
  
Their bodies writhed, the bed beneath creaked as each indulged in the flesh of their lover. As they supped from the liquid lust that slathered their lips and filled their mouths. Neither cared of the world beyond the stone walls of this cell, but only of the touch and presence of the other woman.  
  
Maelice curled her tongue inside Rochelle’s cunt, dragged the tip along spongy flesh as her hips bucked up. Her cheeks glided against Rochelle’s thighs that started to press inwards, but neither woman relented. Maeliced reached up and grasped her lover’s rump. She squeezed tightly and pulled down, nearly snuffing out her breath. She dragged fingers down the cleft of the woman’s ass, parted her cheeks as she moaned into her cunt and felt Rochelle’s own mewls of pleasure between her thighs.  
  
As tongues delved into one another, Maelice pressed a fingertip against the tight ring of Rochelle’s ass. Slowly she eased it inwards, the muscle opening for her. A deviant moan sounded between her thighs as Rochelle lowered her tongue to Maelice’s clit. Finger pushed past the first knuckle, Maelice continued to sink in further. Rochelle’s hips began to buck between finger and tongue, taking the digit deeper before a second soon joined the first.  
  
A hungry mewl spilled into Maelice’s cunt as Rochelle pawed at her lover’s thighs. Maelice began to thrust with her fingers then, the heel of her hand clapping against rear cheeks each time they sank in.   
  
As one they came, their juices gushed over the other’s tongue. Muffled moans filled the cell as they buried their face between the clenched thighs of the other. Hot skin pressed tightly against cheekbones and tickled by short cropped hair, while fingers clenched against the other.  
  
As the two relaxed, they slowly shifted over other other again. A tangle of limbs and small laughs as they brushed against each other on the confines of the small bed. Hot sweat slick skin slid against the other until they both lay wrapped in other’s arms with legs entangled once more.   
  
Maelice smiled, something approaching peace in her mind as she looked upon her lover. A lover who was smeared with her release, and it glistened across her face. Maelice leaned in to kiss the other woman. Her tongue teased against lips first and tasted the tart flavours of her own cunt, before she pushed into Rochelle’s mouth.   
  
As lips crushed together once more, their arms encircled each other. Maelice took comfort from the heat of the other woman, even as she pulled her tongue free. She leaned forward, until their foreheads touched.  
  
“We’ll have missed morning meal,” Maelice said with a smile.  
  
“That’s okay. We had a better one,” Rochelle replied, and Maelice let out a soft laugh as she ran her hand down Rochelle’s arm, feeling the budding muscle.   
  
With one last kiss, Maelice rose from the bed. She felt Rochelle’s gaze on her, but turned to looked out her window across the abbey’s grounds. The sun was brilliant today, and the grass blew gently out in the yard. Rochelle moved to the very edge of the bed and reached out to run a hand along Maelice’s hip, while the warrior watched a figure outside.   
  
One of the nuns walked out towards the gates. While the hem of her habit fluttered across the grass she hurried to her destination, unaware of Maelice’s eyes upon her. Rochelle leaned up on one elbow and ran her lips along the lower edge of Maelice’s abs before her tongue carved lower still along the hard muscle of the warrior's pelvis.   
  
Maelice ran her fingers through Rochelle’s hair as she watched the nun out in the yard reach the gates. Whoever it was stopped there, standing before the barrier between the forest and the abbey. Despite the pleasant sensations from Rochelle’s mouth, Maelice frowned.   
  
The nun outside turned then and looked towards the abbey. She was too far for Maelice to tell who she was, but it seemed as if they stared at one another.   
  
The moment passed, and the nun began to make her way back towards the abbey, even as Rochelle slipped her tongue into Maelice’s navel. The warrior let out a low groan, and glanced down to meet her lover’s temptation laden smile.  
  
“There are yet tasks to complete. Later,” Maelice promised and looked back to the window, but the nun on the grounds was no where in sight. Maelice grunted with furrowed brows and turned away to dress.   
  
She felt Rochelle’s eyes upon her the entire time she pulled on the freshly laundered armoured habit and strapped her sword belt around her waist.   
  
“Suppose I should rise as well. Chores to do... though... I rather like this room,” Rochelle said as her fingers idly ran across her stomach while she watched Maelice fix her veil. The warrior smirked and leaned down to cup Rochelle’s chin.  
  
“Then come back tonight,” she said and kissed her firmly before she stood and moved to the door. She paused there, hand on the latch.   
  
Behind her, Rochelle was climbing off the bed and its damp sheets to seek her clothes scattered across the floor. Maelice could not remember a time since Safina she had left someone in whatever chambers were given her. With a short little laugh she stepped out into the hallway and left Rochelle to her business.  
  
As she stood in the corridor, Maelice went over the conversations she had the day before, with two separate demons. Both of which painted Emilie as far less than the innocent woman a Mother Superior should be. Though, with what Maelice knew of the church, she wondered how many truly were.  
  
She turned and walked along the hall towards the room at the end. The tap of her boots on the stone floor the only sound in this empty corridor. Maelice paused outside Runhild’s room, and turned to gently open the door.   
  
Other than the lay sister’s few belongings, the room was empty. Maelice had not seen Runhild the previous morning, so was surprised to see her not sleeping still. She had assumed the lay sister still would be after a late night with the succubus. After she closed the door, Maelice continued on her way and entered Emilie’s office without announcing herself.  
  
The room was empty, but from the bed chamber beyond she heard a crack muffled by the door. It was a sound familiar from her youth in another convent; flesh upon flesh. The sound that followed though was not a scream, but a moan. Maelice grunted and moved around the desk to stand before the door.  
  
There was another slap from beyond followed by a hungry moan.  
  
Maelice opened the door and stepped in just as Emilie’s hand cracked down upon Runhild’s bare ass again. The lay sister moaned hungrily as she faced the wall. She did not move from where she was bent over the Mother Superior’s bed, her habit hiked up around her waist to expose everything, elbows pressed into the mattress.   
  
Emilie looked up from where she stood wearing only her wimple and veil. She made no effort to conceal her bared flesh, and showed no shame with the sag of her breasts or the lumps and dimples across her thighs. She met Maelice’s gaze, then raised her hand and struck Runhild’s reddened ass once again.   
  
“Good morning Sister,” Emilie said in German, and Runhild whimpered. The Mother Superior slid her hand along the cleft of Runhild’s rump, and down to the glistening folds of her cunt. She rubbed at the petals and Runhild moaned again.  
  
“Mother Superior. It seems your succubus guest offered her meal to you as well,” Maelice said with a gesture to the bent over lay sister. Emilie smiled at that, and pushed a finger inside the mewling woman beneath her.  
  
“No. I will admit, catching you with Safina those years ago stirred me; Runhild has been my lover for some time. She rather likes the power I have over her. Hence why she is still garbed; she is performing her morning chores,” Emilie said as she pulled her fingers free and licked them clean. “Would you like a taste Maelice? I doubt you are here to strike me down with your sword still sheathed.”  
  
The offer was tempting, and Maelice closed the door behind herself. Then, there was much temptation in this abbey she was finding. When she didn’t reply, Emilie returned her fingers to the slick lips of Runhild’s cunt.   
  
“Let me know if you change your mind; Runhild here will do everything I tell her to, but that’s not why you’re here. You’re here to confront me, because you met Ankhta,” Emilie said as she switched to French.   
  
“I did. She baptized me in a way, to Lilith,” Maelice admitted as she switched languages as well, and Emilie smiled.  
  
“As many sisters here have been. Some to seek sanctuary from the terrible nightmares. Some to be free of strict repression. Others still to stay with friends and newfound lovers. There are some, who refuse to give prayer to a Devil, and I will admit they are the strongest among us in some ways. But the nightmares are driving them mad, and I fear they will be locked in cells soon enough. Unless you can help us stop what is occurring outside our walls,” Emilie said as the pace of her finger’s thrusts picked up. Runhild’s form began to buck back against the fingers that pierced her. Her moans rose in hunger, and Maelice felt them ever more tempting.   
  
“I may, but we cannot keep Ankhta locked away. We may need her strength,” Maelice said as she took a few steps closer. The heavy footfalls of her boots drowned by the hungry moans of the lay sister.   
  
“No. It is too dangerous. Though many sisters have proclaimed themselves as servants of Lilith, the succubus is still a demon, and this is still a house of God. We must protect ourselves,” Emilie said. A frown creased her brow as a second finger joined the first inside Runhild. The lay sister’s moans grew louder, her back arched until her covered breasts nearly touched the bed.   
  
“This is what the servants of Mammon were on about. Mother Superior, you cannot give yourself to Lilith and God, and then lock away her servants. This is the exact thing the tales of Sodom and Gomorrah warned us of,” Maelice said and turned away to look back out the window. She listened to Runhild’s hungry moans while she watched sisters out in the yard tending to the gardens.  
  
“This is not the same. We have not raped her, we’ve fed her. We’ve taken care of her. As I said Maelice, the world is murky, stop looking at it in black and white. You of all people should see that,” Emilie said amid Runhild’s moans.  
  
“The world is shit, because no one wants to shovel it Emilie. That’s what I see. I see rivers of blood because no one wants to do what should be done, leaving others to do what must be done,” Maelice said and turned when she heard another loud slap. There was a slight jiggle to Runhild’s young firm rump, and a fresh red print upon her skin. She mewled hungrily and lifted her hips until she stood on the tips of her toes. The poor girl didn’t even have a clue what was being said around her. She was little more than a prop, and Maelice could only guess that the girl liked it better that way.  
  
“I will consider your words. I still have this convent to think about, and I will not leap into anything needlessly,” Emilie said, and Maelice bowed her head.  
  
“Were you promised anything? Boons from our clay born Goddess?” Maelice asked as she remembered the succubus carving into her sword. She’d yet to properly inspect what Ankhta had done.  
  
“A promised Ascension, when my time comes. Whether to the Kingdom of Heaven, or the realms of Hell as a succubus, I will not be some damned and lost soul,” Emilie said, and Maelice nodded as she looked down to Runhild’s cunt.   
  
The lay sister let out a high pitched squeal as she grasped the sheets beneath her. Eyes clenched shut, her juices gushed over Emilie’s fingers and smeared along her hand. The mother superior didn’t stop her thrusts though, instead looking up at Maelice who realized she was witnessing Runhild’s orgasm.  
  
“Come here Sister Maelice, and kneel,” Emilie said in German, and Maelice flicked her gaze upwards as Runhild’s bliss seemingly started to subside.   
  
“Mother Superior?” Maelice asked as Runhild panted and rested her head upon the bed she was bent over.  
  
“Come forth Sister Maelice. Come forth and sup at her font of lust,” Emilie said as she pulled her glistening fingers free. Runhild let out a soft moan as her feet settled back upon the floor. She did not move though, and Maelice stepped forward.   
  
The warrior knelt behind the lay sister, and ran her hands along the back of the young woman’s thighs. Runhild let out a content purr of pleasure, and before the eyes of Lilith, Maelice leaned her head in. She pressed her lips to the slick folds of Runhild’s cunt, and dragged her tongue within her. Runhild moaned anew, as her juices flowed along the pink muscle that pressed within.   
  
Maelice closed her eyes as the flavour of lust flooded her mouth. She gripped Runhild’s hips, and pushed her mouth tight against the lay sister’s sex. There was another hungry moan, and the Mother Superior set her hand upon Maelice’s head.  
  
“Harlot warrior, who battles wickedness, be at peace with your lust as you are at one with the shadows. Let not greed fester, nor envy consume, but bathe in the moonlight of your desires,” Emilie said as Maelice drank deep from Runhild’s release.   
  
When she leaned back to rest upon her heels, Emilie lifted her hand. Maelice looked upon Runhild’s glistening folds, and listened to her heavy breaths for a moment before she wiped her lips and chin clean. She rose to her feet then and was about to say something when she heard a distant scream.  
  
Both Emilie and Maelice moved to the window to look out over the grounds. The lay sisters that had been tending the gardens were in full flight to the abbey. Their screams carried across the yard as they ran. From the gate streamed ghouls, wicked blades and spears in hand. One of the lay sisters was upon the ground a spear slammed through her chest.  
  
“Why are the protections not working? Why now?” Emilie asked, but Maelice was already in a sprint. She bashed through both doors and down the night stairs to the church with a grip on her blade.   
  
In the church’s narthex Rochelle stood with crossbow in hands. The playful sensual expression Maelice had grown used to was replaced once more with the stern gaze she had first seen. She called to the lay sisters, beckoned them.  
  
“They’ll be run down. We must go out there, buy them time,” Maelice told her lover, who nodded in reply.  
  
As one the two nuns surged out through the main doors of the church and onto the grounds. The lay sisters continued their flight across the grass, ghouls in hungry pursuit. Two of the monsters leapt and crashed into one of the lay sisters. She screamed out before a club smashed into the back of her skull. Her legs twitched once, before she was still.   
  
Maelice drew her sword and grasped the hilt with both hands. Her eyes flicked to the blade and the sigils drawn along its length. Unholy signs engraved in the steel, Maelice took comfort from them.  
  
There was a loud click from beside her as Rochelle loosed a bolt. A ghoul with a rusted axe in its hand crumpled with the bolt lodged in its skull. Almost immediately the nun thumbed the nut into position and put the face of the crossbow against the ground and slipped her foot behind the bow proper.  
  
“Run. Get inside,” Maelice said as her hand waved for the lay sisters to get past and into the church. Beside her Rochelle grasped the string with both hands and pulled back. Her teeth grit together as she got the string into place and picked up her weapon.   
  
The first of the lay sisters had reached them and streamed past. Maelice moved through the throng, sword upright before her. As the fourth lay sister ran past, a bolt zipped past them all and slammed into a ghoul’s chest. The demon grasped at the wound and choked as blood poured from its mouth. After a few stumbled steps it collapsed face first into the ground, but Maelice counted at least eight more of them.  
  
“God be my shield, Lilith my blade. Let me shed the blood of the wicked this day and safeguard the innocent,” Maelice whispered to herself as the last of the sisters was about to pass.   
  
A spear tip burst from the woman’s chest in a spray of blood. She gasped and fell to her knees before she stared down at the steel point that emerged from between broken ribs. The ghoul behind her snapped off its spear and cackled in its wheezy voice as the lay sister fell to the side with glassy eyes.  
  
Maelice leapt forward and brought her sword down. The ghoul’s eyes widened as it brought up the broken haft of its spear. Maelice’s blade snapped through the paltry defence in a shower of splinters, and her blade cleaved into the beast’s shoulder with the crunch of bone. The smell of rotted flesh rose from the creature even as Maelice twisted her sword to the side. She could feel her steel shift bone before she popped the ghoul’s collarbone outwards. Frothed blood gushed upwards as broken bones pierced its lung.  
  
With a kick to the creature’s face, Maelice got her sword free in time to swipe at her side. The second ghoul had its lifted hand severed. Its scream was cut short as the sword’s tip tore the beast’s throat open. Blood gushed out from ragged flesh and dangling veins as the ghoul stumbled away.   
  
Another bolt snapped by and punched into a ghoul’s gut. It double over and shouted in pain as Melice moved to one of its brethren. This one was ready for her and caught her sword with its axe. A swift tug had Maelice’s sword swing out wide. She drove her knee upwards and struck the ghoul’s stomach. The beast grunted and Maelice crashed her pommel into the side of its head.  
  
With a heavy swing she aimed for its neck when something hit her. Pain flared just above the hip beneath the mail and padding as she stumbled to the side. As she regained her balance Maelice spun, pulling her sword in a tight arc. The edge crashed against a ghoul’s arm, rusted links of mail splintered and the blade continued through to strike the ghoul’s chest.   
  
The beast stared down at its arm laying upon the ground in shock, and even Maelice was surprised. The hesitation cost her a strike against her shoulder blade. With a grunt Maelice stumbled forward, and lowered her shoulder to smash into the ghoul in front of her. She spun and swung at the backstabber, but the new fiend caught the strike and stabbed with a dagger in its off hand.  
  
Maelice twisted and the dagger cut the cloth along her stomach. She caught the beast’s wrist, twisted it, and slammed the hilt of her sword against its elbow with a loud crack. The ghoul screamed and hacked at Maelice’s arm. She pulled back and struck the fiend in the face with her pommel to stumble it backwards.   
  
As it recovered she slashed again at the shocked ghoul and took its head clean off. Blood splashed across her face, and Maelice went back to the one she’d kneed in the gut, who had recovered. It charged her, and Maelice dodged its attack and plunged the point of her blade into the back of its head. Its skull burst inwards as Maelice’s blade rammed out its nose in a shower of blood and bone shards.  
  
Another bolt snapped across the yard, and felled another of the ghouls, as Maelice kicked the dead one off her blade. It fell to a heap as she rubbed the back of her hand across her face. She ignored the smeared blood as she saw the remaining two ghouls in full flight. One clutched at the side of its head and Maelice sneered at its back.   
  
She stalked after it, sword at her side. Blood dripped along the steel, leaving a pattered crimson trail in her wake.  
  
The ghouls fled through the gate, and vanished amid the shadows of the forest’s trees. Maelice stood in the opening with a frown. The log that usually rested in the gate’s brackets had been removed, not bashed in. She moved to close the gates. Sword in one hand she had to push with her shoulder. When they were closed she looked up to where she’d seen the sigils  
  
They’d been scratched out. Someone had defaced them, weakened them, since she’d seen them the night before. With one hand, Maelice traced the old designs, smeared ghoul’s blood through the faded carvings. She hoped it would work, but only one would have the answers for her.   
  
Maelice wiped her sword clean and sheathed the blade before she bent to pick up the log on the ground. She grunted as she lifted it up, feeling the pull in her muscles as she set it in the brackets.   
  
Now, it was time to find out who had betrayed them.  
  
  
~***~  
  
  
The church echoed with the quiet sobs of the grieving, and blood was smeared along the tiled floors. A few of the lay sisters had been hurt in their flight, and the nuns had taken them to be tended. Maelice stood in the nave and looked over the scene.   
  
Emilie was among the sisters, giving directions as Rochelle inspected all among them. All looked up though as Maelice stepped past the nave and walked among them, her habit drenched in the blood of their foes.   
  
Rochelle quickly approached her then, and took Maelice’s hands, uncaring of the mess upon them. She started to lean in, then hesitated, and stood straight.  
  
“Elke is not here. Nor was she supposed to be outside. I asked, and she had not reported for her chores this morning either. Everyone else has been accounted for. In here or, out there,” Rochelle said, and Maelice frowned. Had Elke been the one she’d seen on the grounds this morning?  
  
“Thank you. I think the time has come to stop hiding though,” Maelice said, and leaned forward to kiss Rochelle. There were a few gasps among the sisters. Maelice let go of her lover and strode towards the Mother Superior.  
  
“Maelice. What are you plotting?” Emilie asked in French.  
  
“I need to speak with her. We need to set her free,” Maelice said in German and the sisters all whispered among one another. Rochelle stared at her lover even as Emilie’s expression hardened.  
  
“There are dangers Sister Maelice,” Emilie said, and Maelice glanced about the gathered women around her. The way some clutched to one another.   
  
“Is there any here who do not know of the succubus in the cell?” Maelice said, and not one of them raised their hand. Not one of them spoke up. Maelice even watched two of them pull each other closer. So the warrior continued. “Is there any here who have not proclaimed themselves to Lilith?”  
  
There was hesitation now, as the sisters all looked to one another. Slowly one, then another two raised their hands. All three among the choir nuns. Emilie glanced between the three women and Maelice.  
  
“What are you doing?” Emilie asked in French.  
  
“Seeing where we stand. You brought me here to save this convent. Please, let me do what you’ve asked of me,” Maelice replied in French as well. Emilie watched her a moment, then simply nodded. Maelice turned to the three women. “Please, come with me.”  
  
The three nuns rose from where they were on the floor and followed Maelice out from the church and into the cloister. They huddled close, but each of them stood with chins raised. Dark circles rimmed their eyes.  
  
“Why separate us? You, the demon hunter brought here to save us,” one of the sisters said.  
  
“None of you came to me before. You say you have not given yourselves to Lilith, but only Sister Elke came to me. Why?” Maelice asked, and the sisters glanced at each other briefly.  
  
“Because we are no strangers to inquisitions. The innocent burn as easily as the guilty. We have heard the teachings the other sisters preach, and while they may be sinful, I struggle anymore to see the wrong or evil in them,” the second of the three said, the other two nodded with her words before the first spoke up again.  
  
“We have denied Ankhta’s protections, we are loyal to God and will give no prayers to any Devil but...,” she trailed off as her eyes flicked to the gardens. Maelice looked back, but there was nothing there, though she wondered if the nun did indeed see something.  
  
“We turned the other cheek to the lusts of our sisters, for that is what Christ preached. We are healers here, and I for one, will not condemn another to damnation. That is God’s judgement, not my own,” the third said, and Maelice turned to lean against the railing. She peered into the garden for a few moments before she spoke.  
  
“I can’t blame you. What do you know of Sister Elke?” Maelice asked.  
  
“It is not well to speak ill of another. But Sister Elke clung to the church’s words. She quietly condemned the others and I’ve heard her speak to shadows that were not there. All of us see things Sister, for sleep rejuvenates the mind, but we are haunted for our loyalty,” the second sister spoke.  
  
“I fear for her. She would not even pray with us. She distrusts us as she distrusts the others,” the third sister said.  
  
“Will you three stay here, when this is done?” Maelice asked.  
  
“Yes,” all three said at once.  
  
“Emilie has promised this to still be a house of God. We may not let a false idol into our heart, but we will pray to God as the others pray to their Goddess. A church and temple together it can be,” the third said, and Maelice smiled at the three. Their youthful innocence warmed her heart, even as the three of them struggled with whatever plagued their mind.  
  
“Good. The world needs more like you in it. Then perhaps someday, there’ll be less need for those like me. Please, return to the others,” Maelice said, and the three women bowed before the immediately scurried away. The first of them though paused and turned. She walked up beside Maelice.  
  
“You are a good woman,” she said, and Maelice looked to her.  
  
“I am not. But, I will serve God better in Lilith’s service, more than in his own,” she said. The nun frowned for a moment, then nodded.  
  
“I wish I did not understand, but I do. My elder brother was on Crusade. You may think me naive sister, but I would rather keep that,” the woman said.  
  
“As would I. Pray for us, for my own go elsewhere now. And she offers something else,” Maelice said. The nun nodded, and gave another curtsy before she left to join the others.  
  
Alone in the cloister, Maelice sighed. Elke; she was the only one unaccounted for. Was she capable of unleashing the ghouls? Before the crusade, Maelice supposed she hadn’t known what horrors she was capable of. Dark days drove folk to darker deeds.   
  
After she fished free the key Maelice moved to the cell door. She pushed the key into the lock when she heard Emilie from across the cloister.  
  
“Maelice. Are you sure of this?” she called as she moved through the garden to stand beside Maelice. The warrior glanced over at her friend.  
  
“I am no prophet, or seer, so no. I’m only sure that we need her help,” Maelice said, and Emilie sighed.  
  
“Then do what you must.”  
  
Maelice nodded, and turned the key. The click of the lock sounded in her ears as she pulled the door open. The smell of sex and the heat of the succubus poured out from the cell. Tentacles of black flesh slithered out around the door frame as Ankhta stepped forth with no concern of modesty.   
  
“And thus did the witch hunter stare too hard into the abyss, and found she enjoyed what stared back,” Ankhta said as tendrils slithered along the walls. Their slime dribbled along the brick as Maelice stood her ground.   
  
Ankhta stepped directly in front of Maelice and cupped her chin. She smiled then, as a tentacle reached out from the wall and curled itself over the warrior’s shoulder. Still, she didn’t move but stared up at the succubus.  
  
“The ghouls got in. Your gifted sigils were defaced. I tried to redraw them, but I do not know if they will hold. We need your help,” Maelice said. The tentacle at her shoulder curved up, its phallic tip sliding along her lips. She made no effort to stop it, nor to encourage it. It brought a slight smile to Ankhta’s face.  
  
“This is your crucible I am afraid. I am a scholar, not a huntress. I study, I teach, I am not skilled in the arts of war. You however. Your steel is blessed by the priests of God, and a daughter of Lilith both. Your soul shielded by celestial and infernal,” Ankhta said, and Maelice could not help but feel the bitter touch of disappointment. She looked at the succubus for a moment, before she nodded and turned away.   
  
“Where do you go now?” Emilia asked after her. Maelice paused and looked back to see tentacles slithering upwards around the mother superior’s legs and under her habit. It did not take long for her eyes to widen, and Maelice knew the tentacles had thrust their way inside the woman. Ankhta smiled, moving behind Emilia to danced clawed fingers along her shoulders. Fear and excitement coloured the woman’s expression.  
  
“To the forest. To face whatever lurks out there,” Maelice said.  
  
  
~***~  
  
  
The forest was darker than she remembered. The trees seemed to loom over her, as if waiting for her to turn her back upon them. Very little sunlight managed to break through the canopy, and the little that did was dull. Maelice heard scuttling in the shadows, and so walked with her sword bared. Nothing came for her, but she felt eyes that watched her from the darkness.   
  
She came to the site from yesterday. The bodies of the cultists still lay where they had fallen, though there was little left of their flesh. The scavengers had taken their meals from them, and had left behind mostly bone and gristle. Flies buzzed about the few strips of meat that clung to the teeth scraped skeletons.   
  
Maelice knelt near the patches of thick black blood where she’d struck the demon. Tried to find any pattern to show her where it had gone, but saw nothing. Instead she would have to depend on the single direction she’d seen it flee, and hoped that led her to something.   
  
She moved around the bodies, and plunged into the forest once again. Each step the light grew more dim, until Maelice could only see directly ahead of her. She heard something snarl behind a tree, but saw only shadow when she turned.   
  
Then a whisper slid into her mind.   
  
“Closer still. She waits for you,” it spoke, echoed softly by others.   
  
Maelice flexed her fingers around the hilt of her blade and let out a long breath. She did not stop, but followed the voice. Twigs snapped underfoot, and things followed her out of sight, but still Maelice pressed forward.  
  
A distant scream reached her ear.   
  
Maelice paused, sword crossed in front of her, ready to strike as she tilted her head to listen. She could hear the breaths of monsters about her, claws against bark, the snap of fallen branches under twisted feet. The scream soon came again, one of agony, a woman. Maelice almost broke into a run, but something shimmied along a branch somewhere overhead. She frowned, and started forward again, patient, trying not to let those screams gnaw at her.  
  
She spotted a glow ahead; the wavering flicker of a flame. It pulsed within the dark, struggled against it, but Maelice moved towards it.   
  
Hot breath brushed her neck, and Maelice spun with her blade in a tight arc. She struck nothing, only saw a flutter of inky shadow in the black. A laugh taunted her as the whispers returned. She couldn’t hear the words, but she felt them as they scratched at her mind. At her soul.  
  
She started towards the fire once more. Towards the piercing screams of agony.   
  
Maelice stepped into a clearing, a pyre built in its centre. She could not see beyond the trees that ringed this place, but the tip of Maelice’s sword touched the ground as she stared at the grotesque idol the demons had made of Elke.  
  
“Oh God,” Maelice whispered.  
  
The nun was strung up between trees by chains that were hooked into her wrists and ankles. In the form of the crucifix she was suspended half her height above the ground as she screamed. Her clothes had been torn away, leaving only wimple and veil, though they were stained with blood. Her stomach had been torn open, sheets of skin and muscle pinned to her sides with nails. Her intestines glistened in the firelight as they hung from the near empty pit of her gut to the ground. Maelice could see up under the glimmering white bone of her ribs, to where her heart pounded.   
  
“She will not die, though she wants ever so much to be a martyr,” a whispered sounded in Maelice’s ear, carved its way to her awareness.  
  
Maelice tore her eyes from the sight, but none of the fiends were in the circle.   
  
“So she will scream, and scream, until someone can give her what she craves beyond anything,” another whisper.  
  
“Will you be the one to feed her greed Maelice? Oh you reek of lust. Even now her pretty young body calls to your loins... but not just that is it? There’s another hunger that even the succubus couldn’t see,” another fiend, and a shadowy hand pulled Maelice to face Elke again.  
  
The woman’s skin glistened with sweat, as she panted between screams. Her breasts rose and fell with the ragged breaths. But Maelice’s eyes fell again to the string of guts that spilled before her. She felt her mouth water as memories of Ma’arra flooded her.  
  
The sun hot on her face as she ran through the hell swept streets. As men gave themselves to wickedness as they butchered and consumed. As they carved the flesh from the fallen to stave off the hunger that plagued them.  
  
As she turned the corner to see Safina’s corpse, chunks of her cut from her hips, her buttocks. As blood dribbled from the wounds, and pooled around the deep gash across her throat, the crusaders laughed. They laughed as they hung chunks of Safina over a fire, and her flesh blackened under the touch of the flame.  
  
Rage. Rage that Maelice had never known took her. Her sword hacked into the men that thought her friend. Their blood painted the walls of the back alley. She had severed heads and limbs, hacked into the cavities of their torsos. Then she had sobbed as she cradled the corpse of her lover. As she cradled the corpse of her sweet Safina.  
  
Cradled her, unable to ignore the gnawing pain in her stomach. Wept as she prayed to Safina for forgiveness for not being there to protect her. To save her. Sobbed as she prayed for Safina to forgive her for what she was about to do.   
  
Maelice turned her teeth to Safina’s flesh.   
  
Elke screamed, and snapped Maelice to the present. She looked up, to see one of the fiends behind her. It floated on the edge of sight and reality, one hand curled around Elke’s body to grasp a breast. It’s claws dug in and drew beads of crimson that dripped to the ground. Wisps of the demon wavered off its arm like smoke, there and not there at once.   
  
“How many have you consumed since then? How often have you gorged yourself?” a demon’s voice cooed in Maelice’s ear, but she did not turn to it. Instead she watched a claw descend to Elke’s thigh, and press to the skin just above her knee.  
  
“Shall we carve her for you?” another purred, and that claw pushed hard into Elke’s flesh while a fresh scream tore itself from her lungs. Blood welled up around the shadowy claw, flowed over her knee and down her shin. The demon pulled upwards, and sliced down to bone. Skin and muscle splayed open, and Maelice found herself near drooling.  
  
“Come forward. Feast,” one of the demons said, and Maelice took a step forward.  
  
Elke threw her head back and began to shout as blood poured out from her.   
  
“My comfort in my suffering is this: your promise preserves my life. I am the martyr that has cleansed the filth from your holy house. Through this pain I will endure for your love oh Heavenly Father,” she screamed before blood began to pour from her mouth and patter across her breasts.  
  
Another step and Maelice was just before her. This was the fate that Elke wanted, to be a martyr, to suffer for the sins of others, so why shouldn’t she savour her own desires? Maelice reached up, dragged the guard of her sword along one thigh and her nails along another. She leaned in, the smell of blood, of flesh, filled her awareness. Her lips parted, almost of their own will, and she slid her tongue along the edge of the fresh gash.  
  
The copper taste of blood, the heat of meat, flowed in her mouth. The touch of intestines against her cheek sensual in their slick caress.  
  
“That’s it, feed Sister Maelice, take what you crave for yourself,” one of the whispers said as Elke continued to scream above her.   
  
Maelice pulled away as crimson soaked through the side of her wimple. She stared up at Elke, saw her lungs deflate and grow with each ragged breath. She could not see the demon that had lingered behind the strung up nun just a moment ago.  
  
“After that display do you think yourself pure and goodly by refusing our offered feast?” a whisper stabbed at her, and Maelice winced in pain. She stepped back closer to the fire. Its heat sunk into her back and legs.   
  
Sword held before her, she looked about the clearing. Sought out her foes as Elke’s screams continued to echo through the forest. Words spilled free, but they had become little more than ramblings.   
  
“Tear out her throat. You have tasted her, and you crave ever more, we can see it.”  
  
“Tear out her throat. It will give you the calm you need to fight us.”  
  
“Tear out her throat. Take what you want.”  
  
The whispers stabbed at her. Dug into her mind like sharp claws. The taste of Elke’s blood lingered upon her tongue, and Maelice felt her eyes pulled back to the splayed thigh. She drowned out Elke’s screams, and put a foot forward.  
  
“Yes. Just another bite.”   
  
As the whisper clawed into her ear, Maelice turned and swung her sword upwards. The blessed steel swiped through smokey flesh and sprayed blood across the grass and sizzled in the flames. It had been like she’d slashed water.   
  
The creature screeched as it collapsed to the ground. Two halves tried to crawl away both seeming to have heads. Trails of black ichor bubbled in its wake as it made its way towards the shadowy edge of the clearing.   
  
Maelice lunged forward, and plunged her blade into the demon’s back. Both heads shrieked as fresh ichor gushed from the wound. Inky smoke swirled upwards around the blade, and Maelice twisted. The thing shrivelled upon the ground and eyes stared from the cloak like back of its head.   
  
About to pull her blade up Maelice was thrown across the clearing. Claws scraped against the mail along her belly before she landed hard on the ground. With a gasp for breath, she scrambled to her knee. A glance across the clearing showed her sword still jammed into a demon’s back. She reached to the satchel at her side, but did not see the flicker of shadow as it flew at her.  
  
Air blasted from her lungs as it hit her, and smashed her against a tree. She gulped for air, desperate to fill her lungs as she shoved her hand into the satchel. She found the flask of holy water and pulled it up, twisting the cap with her thumb as she did.   
  
Maelice saw the shadow at the last moment. It dove at her from the twisted branches above. Maelice’s arm shot up in reflex as the demon swiped at her face. Holy water splashed upwards, sprinkled across the fiend’s arm as its claw raked down her brow to her cheek, narrowly missing her eye.   
  
Blood streamed from the open wound but the demon recoiled with a hiss. Flask in hand, Maelice rushed forward but was hit from the side. Picked up and carried into the branches above. She looked down, vaguely aware of a face within a swirling morass of shadow and smoke. Maelice upended the flask and punched down at the shape that bore her upwards. Her fist sunk into its mass like punching a deep puddle.  
  
She gasped at the sharp cold that pierced her flesh, before a scream of pain tore out from her throat. The sound was drowned even in her own ears by the screech from the fiend. The pair of them plummeted to the ground, the demon thrashing in agony as holy water spilled inside it.   
  
It burst in clouds and goo when they struck, and Maelice groaned as she picked herself up. Ichor was splattered across her front and had sprayed across the grass, but she did not dally, even as blood dribbled into her eye. She hissed at the sting, clenching one eye closed, and rushed around the fire to where the first demon was still pinned. Its second half had crawled back to it, skeletal arms reaching out from its smokey mass to grasp at the blade.   
  
It sizzled as it tried to pull, the fiend shrieking in agony as it desperately tried to free itself.  
  
From the corner of her good eye, Maelice saw movement. She plunged her hand into the fire with gritted teeth and grabbed a stout stick. As flames consumed the cloth arm of her habit, she swung wide. The stick smashed against the diving demon and snapped in half with a shower of embers. The flames were snuffed out but the creature was smashed to the ground.  
  
Maelice dove for her sword. She managed to grasp the blade and swung upwards at the lower half of the demon that was trying to free itself. The steel sliced through where a second face seemed to be and split it in half. Ichor sprayed upwards, and a hundred eyes all seemed to blink at her from the split form before her.   
  
Before she’d even registered the sight, the eyes vanished, and the fiend melted down into a black puddle on the ground.   
  
Laughter pealed across the glade. Sword in hand, Maelice looked about her, and found the demon hovering near the fire. Half of a skull like visage stared at her, a dozen tiny eyes blinking at her in its one visible socket. Maelice quickly wiped her eye with the back of her hand, but trying to open it only brought more pain so she kept it scrunched tight.  
  
“Again I underestimate you. My siblings have paid the price for it as well,” the fiend said, and Maelice moved towards it. It laughed, and the sound mingled with Elke’s screams, as it slipped around the fire. “No, I think not. I rather enjoy an intact spirit, and it seems you have shattered that of my siblings.”  
  
“Then stop your flight, so you can see them again,” Maelice said, only to be met with another laugh.  
  
“But why? Then I will not get what I crave. Oh, I may have to give up on the souls in this particular abbey, pledged to God too strongly, or given themselves to Lilith it seems. The serpent bitch that she is,” the demon said, the skull half of its face twisted into a vile grin of drool and a half dozen tongues. “But there are so many others, and their souls will taste just as fine as these ones did. My sin is not pride, Sister Maelice, I can admit when I am beaten.”  
  
“Just like that?” Maelice asked, blade still held before her, ready to strike. She wasn’t entirely surprised when the demon just laughed at her again.  
  
“My siblings are slain, and with that horrid blessing of a whore Goddess, they might truly be slain. Or perhaps among the lost, doomed to forget themselves and become babbling maniacs in Hell. I’d say we paid the price for our attempts. Oh... oh but I do have one victory,” the demon said with a giggle that poured out from a mouth in its chest.  
  
Maelice grunted in reply, and the demon slipped away from the fire, curled around the wretched form of Elke suspended above the ground.   
  
“An eternal screaming martyr?” Maelice asked as she carefully paced towards the fiend. It looked at her over Elke’s shoulder as one hand clamped over her mouth to stifle the agonized wails.  
  
“Very little is eternal. She will die, at some point. And when she does, her soul is mine. I’ve already claimed it. So what do you do demon slayer? Leave her to agony until someone finally figures out to cut off her head? Or send her to me directly? That choice is yours, and all the sins with it upon your soul,” the demon said. Maelice pursed her lips as she stared up at the demon.  
  
“We will meet again,” Maelice said.  
  
“Forgive me when I say that I am not looking forward to that particular reunion. But, until that day comes, I shall leave you to your victory,” the demon said, and snapped away into the darkness.   
  
Maelice stood and watched as the shadows of the forest were pulled in its wake to leave a surprisingly beautiful morning. Sunlight streamed in through the treetops, and ghouls that had hidden themselves in the dark were left exposed. Dozens of them, all in flight after the demon.   
  
But any beauty, any sense of victory was snatched as Elke let out another scream. Maelice turned to her, the display no less grotesque in the daylight. She looked down at Maelice, as the warrior stepped up to her.  
  
“Harlot who spread her legs for the devil’s cock. Whore who turned her back on God. I see you for the serpent fornicator that you are. I saw you last night, covered in that whore fiend’s filth. The enjoyment you took from it. The abbey is lost, it had to be cleansed with the blood of the wicked,” Elke shouted down at Maelice.  
  
The warrior let out a sigh, and grasped the hilt of her blade two handed. She looked upwards, and swung at Elke’s neck.  
  
  
~***~  
  
  
Streams of sunlight warmed the naked skin of Maelice’s back. She grunted as she felt Rochelle slide out from under her arm and go to find her scattered clothes.  
  
“If you struggle to rise this early, perhaps you should not keep us up all night,” Rochelle said, and Maelice opened her eyes to see the woman’s bared skin before she pulled on her habit.  
  
“I believe last night was your fault,” Maelice said and grunted as she sat up. Rochelle looked back, and took note of the bruises that coloured the warrior’s ribs and shoulder. She couldn’t help but smile as she sat on the edge of the bed, before she gently turned Maelice’s face towards her.   
  
“How’s it look?” Maelice asked as Rochelle looked at the stitches she’d done herself a few days ago. They ran from just under the edge of her wimple, over her brown eye, to the bottom of her cheek.  
  
“Healing well, though it will leave a scar. I’ll clean it again after morning meal,” Rochelle said before she pressed her lips to her lover’s cheek and stood up from the bed.  
  
“I’m not hungry. I’ll wait until dinner,” Maelice said and turned to press a kiss to Rochelle’s hip, and started to slide inwards with tongue and lips to her stomach. Rochelle frowned, but didn’t stop the march of kisses across her skin.  
  
“You’ve said that the past six days. You’ve also barely eaten at the evening meal. You need to eat properly to get your strength back up,” Rochelle said.  
  
“Don’t worry. I know how to take care of myself,” Maelice purred as she began to descend from Rochelle’s stomach to the fine hairs of her mound. Rochelle bit her lip as lust swirled in with her concerns.  
  
“You might, but first you actually have to do it,” Rochelle said though her voice hiked in the final words as Maelice’s tongue found the sweet nectar of her cunt. The nun closed her eyes, as Maelice slowly licked along the petals of her sex. Then, just as suddenly she pulled back.   
  
“I will. Now, don’t you have chores to get to?” Maelice whispered, as a kiss brushed against sensitive flesh with each word, before she let her tongue curl inside the woman. Rochelle gripped Maelice tight by the hair as her back arched. A hungry moan spilled from her mouth as the juices of her arousal spilled into Maelice.  
  
“I have some time for, personal prayer,” she said as Maelice dragged her tongue downwards, the very tip glided over the spongy flesh within to pull another deep moan from the nun.  
  
“Good girl,” Maelice said and looked up, her lower face glistened as she grasped Rochelle’s hips.  
  
With a swift tug, Maelice pulled Rochelle onto the bed and earned a laughing squeal. The nun managed to land on hands and knees as Maelice shifted behind her. As she knelt behind Rochelle, Maelice pushed down on the woman’s back, until her breasts pressed to the mattress they had shared these past few nights.   
  
“Our Goddess wishes to hear your moans,” Maelice said with a grin as she grasped the woman’s rear cheeks. Rochelle gasped, utterly exposed, and grasped the pillow their heads had rested upon.   
  
Maelice leaned in, and pressed her tongue to the woman’s clit. There was a hungry moan, as Maelice dragged her slick pink muscle along the petals of Rochelle’s cunt and into the cleft of her ass. She didn’t stop until she found the sweet, earthy flavour of her rear, and pressed against it with her juice drenched tongue.   
  
  
“Lilith praised,” Rochelle moaned as her tight little ring of muscle opened for Maelice’s tongue, and the warrior pushed deep as her lips pressed to skin. Rochelle let out another mewl of pleasure, as Maelice released one of the woman’s cheeks, and moved her fingers down to Rochelle’s dribbling cunt.   
  
A higher moan spilled into the room, and likely the hall, as Maelice pushed her fingers inside her lover’s sex. Without pause she began to thrust and savoured each sound she earned. Her tongue continue to squirm inside Rochelle’s ass, as the nun pushed her hips back against the penetration.  
  
It was not long before she was screaming out her pleasure, with a heavy flow of slick juices that pattered upon the mattress. Maelice groaned, and slowly pulled her tongue free. She pressed a kiss to Rochelle’s rear cheek and slid her fingers free as the nun dropped her hips to the bed.  
  
Maelice smiled, and gave on last kiss to the woman’s rump before she made to stand. Rochelle grasped her wrist though to stop her. The nun rolled onto her side with a wide grin.  
  
“What kind of lover would I be, if I did not return the favour?” she said, and pulled Maelice down for a kiss.  
  
  
~***~  
  
  
Door closed behind her, Maelice left Rochelle to clean herself up and dress. Maelice had been quicker, even getting into her armoured habit. She still looked a sight, though the stains had all been carefully washed out. The cloth on her right arm burned away to the elbow, tears along her back and down her legs, all showing the linked metal rings hidden beneath.  
  
As she stepped out into the hallway though, she got only a few smirk filled curtsies from the lay sisters who had returned to their rooms a few nights previous. Likely, all these women had heard the prayers she and Rochelle had committed to. While they commenced a few of their own, she was sure.   
  
As she did every morning, Maelice made her way down into the cloister. She paused and stared over at the cell that had held Ankhta. The bricks were stained black around the door frame. Every afternoon a few of the lay sisters would set at the stonework with soap and vinegar. Every day the marks became less pronounced, and Maelice hoped it could be cleaned by the time the abbey could open once more for patients.  
  
The succubus herself had left without a word to anyone shortly after Maelice had emerged from the forest with news of Elke’s death and the defeat of Mammon’s fiends. Whether to return to Hell, to track the escaped one, or something else entirely, Maelice couldn’t be sure.  
  
“You stare every day,” Emilie said in French, and Maelice turned to see the mother superior standing in the garden. The woman looked tired, but wore a smile.  
  
“Much has changed because of what you kept in that room. But only in this small slice of the world. Everywhere else the sun rises and sets as it always has,” Maelice said, and Emilie shrugged as she moved closer.  
  
“As it will here as well. We will practice in secret, and protect ourselves from the schemes of the world, as we always have. But what of you Maelice. What will you do now?” Emilie asked, and Maelice looked down upon the stone floors a moment; she had not truly thought about what would come after.  
  
“Return to Rome, and prepare my sisters as much I can. If you hear word that I was burned at the stake, then I failed. If you hear nothing, then I succeeded. We will need the signs Ankhta has given us, and others will crawl up from Hell to take what they want from us,” Maelice said and looked back to the mother superior, who just nodded.  
  
“Your path is a bloody one. Perhaps now you can walk it with more confidence. You will be going into the forest shortly?” Emilie asked and Maelice nodded in return.  
  
“I do. Two days ago I found a wayward ghoul sniffing about the road. Until I am sure this place is safe, and that fiend is truly gone, I would prefer that all the sisters stay inside,” Maelice said.  
  
“I lost two of this convent in that forest. I can rest knowing at least they were given decent burials, but I have no intention of losing more. How long, until you are sure?” Emilie asked, and Maelice could only shrug.  
  
“When Dieter returns with the next cart. I will depart with him, as I arrived,” Maelice said.  
  
“Then I shall see you at the evening meal Sister Maelice. I pray, that you find nothing out there. When this is done though, I’d like you to show me to Elke’s grave. I would like to say my farewells, even if she was the cause of three other deaths. She was a good woman, before she let madness take her.”  
  
“Of course,” Maelice promised.  
  
Emilie stood a moment, as if she pondered something else to say, but instead moved off towards the abbey’s library. Maelice stood by the doorway to Ankhta’s former cell and was about to walk off when a glint of silver caught her eye. She stepped inwards, where crusted remains of flesh and slime crunched beneath her boots.   
  
Her crucifix. With a short humourless laugh Maelice knelt and pulled it free, flakes of the succubus’s dried corruption crumbling off easily to show the silver beneath. The cord was snapped, and caked with the remnants. Maelice pushed the idol into her satchel, and left the room.  
  
  
~***~  
  
  
The forest was old, and full of ghosts Maelice knew. Still it had a beauty to it now that the sun danced along the branches and cast cool shadows upon the woodland floor. The birdsong was sweet, and set a pleasant mood upon the stroll as the warrior moved among the trees. She listened for movement, watched for signs of the last fiend, though she believed him well and truly gone from here.   
  
It was nice to be on her own, without anyone in sight. No white noise of prayer and work spun together, just the whisper of wind in the leaves and the birdsong.   
  
She came eventually to the ichor spattered glade. The smell of blood still clung to the air here, curled together with wood smoke from the fire. It was silent, for no bird or beast dared come to this unholy ground. It was foul, tainted.  
  
Maelice gathered some wood, and small sticks and carefully built herself a fresh fire on the ashes of yesterday’s. With steel and flint she soon had it started, a spark given life to flame. She watched as her kindling was consumed, and the larger sticks began to catch.   
  
The warrior rose to her feet and stripped naked. She laid her garments and her weapons carefully beside the firepit, and savoured the heat against her bared skin. She pulled a knife from her belongings, set it atop her satchel, and turned about.  
  
“Good morning Elke,” Maelice said.  
  
The nun stared with venom and hatred at Maelice. She could not speak, not with the great slash that had opened her throat, but still her body clung to the mockery of life that had been left to her. No rot, or any sign of the natural order that comes with the passage of life. Her body still hung suspended from chains that ran from the trees. Her naked skin glistened from the morning dew. Her breasts rose and fell with her breaths. Her entrails a pristine waterfall of gore that trailed upon the crimson painted grass. The nails that pinned the sheets of her stomach to her sides gleamed in the sunlight.  
  
Maelice smiled at the sight, and at the bones that had once been Elke’s legs carefully laid upon the ground. Stripped of meat, and bearing the marks of steel and tooth. The warrior’s mouth watered as she crossed the glade, soon to feel still fresh blood sticky on the soles of her feet.   
  
“I must give thanks to the meals you have provided thus far,” Maelice said as she stopped just in front of the suspended woman, her breath cascading across the crimson dabbled curves of her breasts. The nun’s nipples stiffening from such close attentions.  
  
With a look upwards, Maelice ran her tongue slowly over one with a low groan. In Elke’s eyes, pleasure sparked unbidden through the madness. If she could still make a sound she would have groaned, and Maelice gently trapped a nipple between her teeth. For a moment she was tempted to bite harder, but she could not deny she enjoyed the sight of Elke’s young perky breasts as they were. So she pulled off the breast’s peak with a scrape of teeth and imagined the soft moan that would have emerged.  
  
“You truly are beautiful,” Maelice said, and began to kiss downwards. The fresh dew mixed with the copper of blood to enliven the warrior’s palette, until she reached the edge of skin and descended further to the wet threads of silken guts.   
  
Maelice felt heat rise in her loins, her sex moistened as she trailed her lips and tongue along the dangling coils of innards. They caressed her face, and she could not resist the urge to slide her hands through them. Sticky blood coated her, rained upon her as she knelt before the suspended woman. Maelice pulled the entrails to her, rubbed them against her breasts, tilted her head to feel them caress her neck with their pristine touch.  
  
But Maelice could not be selfish. She drew the curtains apart to reveal Elke’s lust slick sex. She sat up enough to kiss the woman’s cunt, and groaned at the tart flavour of her arousal. Elke writhed upon the chains, their rattle a sweet orchestra that filled the silence of the glade. Maelice reached upwards and grasped the woman’s hips. Flesh against one palm, bone against the other. She supped, blood and arousal flooded her mouth as her tongue brought Elke to the peak of pleasure. She could not moan, but the rattle of chains told Maelice all she needed to know. Her gush of juices a sign of her climax.  
  
The warrior stood, her naked form painted with the fluids of her meal. She reached to Elke’s side and pulled a nail free. Then another, and another until they had all been extracted from where they’d been buried. With the iron pieces in one hand, one sheet of skin and muscle fell awkwardly to lay over the cavern of Elke’s gut. Maelice licked the nails clean and took them back to her belongings.  
  
“Don’t worry. I will not let that piece of flesh ruin the art you have let yourself become,” Maelice said as she returned with the knife in hand. Elke stared at her as she approached. Lust swirled with hatred in her eyes. Maelice smiled at the beautiful sight.  
  
She pressed a soft kiss to Elke’s breast, before she took hold of the slab of meat that had been half the woman’s abdomen. Maelice began to cut, sawed through skin, muscle, and fat until it all came free. The warrior looked upon it in her hands and brought it to her mouth.   
  
Her teeth sunk deep, and blood gushed down her throat. It dribbled over her lips as she tore into her prize. She tore free a hunk of it, and savoured the tender meat before she swallowed. Another bite, and Maelice continued to consume, to take her fill. Chunks of flesh slid down her throat, satiated the hunger she bore.  
  
When she had finished the slab she sucked her fingers clean and looked up at Elke. Eyes addled with agony, madness, and depraved lust stared back. Maelice took a long moment to clean off the last of her digits, then offered a smile to Elke.  
  
“Until tomorrow my dear.”  
  
  


** END **


End file.
